Disbelieving in Trees
by Potter47
Summary: Luna had never really bothered to look up the word 'implausible' in the dictionary—or 'plausible', for that matter. And, as such, she didn't realise that what she was attempting was not only 'implausible' but completely insane. COMPLETE!
1. The Hotel Corridor

Author's Note: _I would like to say right here and upfront that I have never been to France, and as such have no idea if this is an accurate representation of a French hotel. I would reckon not. Anyway, if you have been to France, please ignore all errors—at least those that pertain to my lack of French hotel knowledge. Thank you. Please review._

Disbelieving in Trees  
_ Potter47_

**_ Chapter One  
The Hotel Corridor _**

Luna walked down the hotel corridor of the Hotel Corridor, wondering who had come up with such a strange name for a hotel. Of course, it probably meant something in French, like 'beef,' or 'throw rug.' Luna had never liked French. Too greasy.

She had been wondering ever since she arrived what had made Hermione Granger choose this hotel of all places. It was...well, it was large, and expensive, but it was distinctly confuzzling in Luna's opinion. (Her unfamiliarity with the language did not help, but honestly: the room numbers on the doors counted by _twos!_)

As such, just after Luna passed room fifteen and seventeen, she ran into number nineteen, or would have if the doorway had not been blocked and she was in more comfortable shoes.

"Luna—wait," number nineteen's occupant called as she walked past the doorway. It was Ronald, of all people, and he looked quite sheepish. "Er...do you know how to tie a tie?"

Luna blinked. "You wore a tie every day for seven years, Ronald," she said curiously, walking backwards to Ronald's door (she had overrun it and stopped at twenty-one). "Surely you haven't forgotten?"

"No, I mean—" Ronald gestured at the cloth round his neck. "This, a—what did she call it? Oh—a _bow_tie. Do you know how to—how to...?"

"How to tie a bowtie?" Luna finished. "Of course, yes. Daddy never quite got the hang of it, you know, and he just hates the other kind. Simply dreadful."

Silence. Luna stood, gazing at Ronald from the corridor, not moving an inch. Ronald blinked.

"Well..._could_ you?" he said awkwardly. Luna quirked her head at him.

"Of course I could. That's what I just told you."

Ronald blinked awkwardly again. "Er..._would _you? Help me, I mean?" he asked, and now Luna smiled.

"Why didn't you say you needed help? I thought you were just asking if I knew." Luna quickly scooted under his arm that rested against the opposite side of the doorway, and into his room, before tugging him by the cuff of his Muggle suit in after her.

"Where do you have a mirror?" Luna asked.

"You need a mirror to tie _my _tie?" Ronald said.

"Of course not—but you need to learn, don't you? How ever would you learn if you couldn't see it? It's not as though I could simply _tell_ you how, that would be silly."

"Oh...er...right," said Ronald. "Well there's one right here on this closet—" And he gestured to a shiny closet whose sliding doors were full-length mirrors.

"Of course," said Luna, "there's one in the loo—this room's just the opposite of my room, you know—my bed's on that side, not this side, and the same with the wardrobe, and look: the loo," and she led the way to the loo.

Luna seemed to take her time on the tie, clearly pointing out each step to Mirror-Ronald. The actual Ronald stood rather uncomfortably as she fumbled about his neck.

"So, how do you like the place?" he asked. "Hermione says she's always planned to have her wedding here—"

"That's vaguely creepy," said Luna conversationally. "She planned to have her wedding here when she was a day old? An hour? A milli-moment? I hadn't even figured out who I was going to _marry_ at _that _age..." She looked downward for a moment, as if deeply puzzled by something.

Ronald blinked once again, inwardly shaking his head in disbelief. "Not quite what I meant, Luna. But whatever."

Silence. Luna fumbled round Ronald's neck some more.

"I'm surprised _Hermione_ hasn't taught you to tie a bowtie," said Luna, and there was something odd in her voice, something unusual. Ronald wouldn't have known what it was.

"She tried, I guess," said Ronald. He took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, and unfolded it. Writ upon it were a great many big words in small writing, and intricate diagrams that bore no relation to a bowtie, neck, or anything else remotely relevant. (To Luna, anyway.) "She gave me this yesterday."

"How on earth did she expect you to learn from _this?_" Luna said incredulously, stopping for a moment in her task to peer at the paper. "Is that word even English?" she asked, squinting. "I don't think it is, but I'm not _sure..._"

"Beats me," said Ronald, shaking his head. He furrowed his brow, looking up at his reflection again. "How long does this take, anyway?"

"Oh, I'm just about done...now!" Luna said, standing back triumphantly. They both looked in the mirror then. Luna looked him over admiringly, though she did not like the look of his suit. It was so...refined, and Ronald was not a refined person. It didn't suit him, no pun intended.

Luna narrowed her eyes slightly and let out a breath. That wasn't all that didn't suit Ronald, not in the least, no.

"Well," said Ronald after a long while. "What do you think?"

"She's too old for you."

Silence. Ronald was quite positive he had heard wrong. Luna still gazed into the mirror and did not seem to notice she had said anything peculiar.

"_Excuse_ me?" said Ronald after a great many milli-moments.

"I said she's too old for you, Ronald."

Ronald nodded, as if disbelieving. "That's what I thought you said. But what I don't get is...what in hell are you _talking _about?"

"Hermione. She's much too old for you." Luna said this as if it was perfectly obvious and she was simply repeating the information for the thousandth time, for he had to have heard it many times before.

"What are you on about, Luna?" said Ronald. "Hermione is five—"

"Five-and-a-half."

"Hermione is _five-and-a-half _months older than me, that's not _too old for—_"

"Yes it is," said Luna.

Ronald blinked several times in quick succession, looked back at Luna, and determined that she was still there. "You're...you're just...you are _nuts_, Luna."

"Oh?" said Luna interestedly. "Pecans?" She narrowed her eyes. "Or...pe_cahns?_"

"I rest my case," said Ronald. He began as if to take her by the arm, thought better of it, and simply walked out to the door, Luna in tow. "Now, thank you very much, Luna, but I think you'd better be going. I'll see you at the ceremony."

And now Luna smirked, which seemed to baffle Ronald beyond belief. "Tuesday at six o'clock, on the nose," she said. "Down by the ga_ze_bo." Luna began to frown as she wondered why Ronald had wanted his tie on, and his suit, when the wedding was not for two whole days. And where did he think she'd be going, so that he wouldn't see her till the ceremony?

"Yeah," said Ronald, nodding, and leaned against the doorway again. "I didn't ask if you knew when and where the ceremony was taking place, I just said—"

And now the smirk was gone off of Luna's face, and a look of horror and revulsion replaced it. She narrowed her wide eyes menacingly at Ronald.

"She's rubbed off on you."

And then she was gone, leaving Ron with his mouth hanging open in the hotel corridor of the Hotel Corridor.

"What was that about?" he said aloud, before shutting himself back in his room.

——

Luna stopped again in front of number twenty-one, which she remembered was her own room—she had almost gone right on past it.

She slid the little card thingy into her door lock like Hermione had shown them all earlier, but the light did not turn green, and the door did not unlock. She frowned, and tried again. _Fiiip—click._ It opened this time, and Luna wondered why the light turned green when it opened and red when it stayed shut. Red was better than green—everyone knew that.

Removing her shoes, Luna enjoyed the feel of the hotel room rug beneath her feet. It was quite cool, and somehow hard and soft at the same time. Her father would have called it very somewhat hoft.

Laying down on the neatly-made bed, Luna gazed up at the ceiling, with its swirls of off-white plaster, and let her eyes relax. She scooted herself up on the bed so that her head rested on the shiny-looking pillows, and breathed in the scent of the room. It smelt good, and reminded her of the hotel she and her father had stayed at in Sweden after fourth year. That one had been more sensible, however; it had used _keys_, not card thingies.

Closing her eyes, Luna drifted to sleep. When she awoke it was night time, for it had been daytime when she'd fallen asleep. When she did wake up, she felt quite uncomfortable, and as such got up and took her pyjamas from her sootcase, even though they were a bit dirty. She wondered why Muggles carried clothes with soot.

Brushing them off, she put them on and climbed back into bed. Much more comfy. She pulled the blanket up over her shoulders, and closed her eyes once more—but suddenly she heard what sounded like whispers, but may well have just been muffled voices, coming from behind the wall.

"I saw Luna today," said Ronald's voice, and Luna's eyes widened. She scooted up on the bed, pressing her ear flat against the wall.

"That's not surprising," said Hermione Granger's voice, causing Luna to narrow her eyes. "She _is_ only a room away."

"She is?" said Ronald.

"Of course; she's right in there." And, presumably, Hermione had pointed at the wall between the rooms.

"She is?" said Ronald again. "Oh."

Silence, and Luna couldn't hear anything.

Hermione sounded as if she were changing the subject: "I was talking with Professor Snape earlier about the wedding, and—"

"Oh, I'm sure he _loved_ that conversation," muttered Ronald. "Really, Hermione, why'd you invite _Snape_ of all people? Like he cares that we're getting married."

Luna did not like the way he said 'we're getting married', as if he meant 'we are getting married', meaning that it was a definite. Nothing is ever definite until tomorrow, anyway.

"Because I invited all of our professors," said Hermione.

"Oh, you invited Umbridge? And Trelawney?"

"That is _not_ what I meant," Hermione snapped. "You know that. I invited all of our professors _except _the ones that were horrible—"

"And _Snape_ wasn't horrible?"

"He was a good _teacher_, Ron. He knew what he was talking about." A beat. "How many times do we have to argue about this? I'm surprised you didn't call him evil this time."

"I was getting to it," said Ronald. "I question his sanity as well; something must be wrong with his head if _he actually came._ Seriously, though, you have to admit—"

"You are unbelievable. God, what do you have against Professor Snape?"

"Why do _you_ like him so much?"

Silence.

"I'm going for a walk," said Ronald.

"Well remember, don't use magic—" began Hermione, and it seemed as if she had said this many times before.

"I _know_, Hermione. See you later."

"Bye."

Silence once again. Luna leaned forward, resting her cheek on her hand, thinking. Should she...? She reckoned she would. Standing, Luna lowered herself off the bed (it was very tall) and rummaged in her sootcase for her fluffy-Snorkack slippers. She found them, brushed them off, and plopped them on the floor, before sliding her feet into them.

Taking one of the dressing gowns from the loo, Luna walked out into the empty hall. It was unnaturally bright for this time of night, and she wondered which way Ronald had gone. Right or left? R for Ronald or L for Luna? It was not a difficult decision for her: right. It was the way she would have gone.

Her feet padded with a sort of floppy noise as she walked, trying futilely to tie the dressing gown as she went. The footsteps she made echoed softly, and she felt very alone. Her heart was even quiet, and usually she could hear it beating.

Eventually, she reached a door marked 'STAIRWELL' in little letters and whatever word meant 'STAIRWELL' in French in big letters above it. Luna turned the knob, and went down the grimy-looking stairs behind it, all the way down to the first floor. She stepped out into the lobby, and looked round futilely, but did not see Ronald. She walked over to the lobby desk and asked the French lady that sat there, "Have you seen a man about twenty, tall, red-haired, unbelievably handsome?"

The lady, who did not speak English very well, shook her head hesitantly, and then pronounced slowly and delicately, "Honeymoon?" and smiled.

Luna shook her head. "No. My name means moon, though. Does that count?"

The lady shrugged as if uncomprehending, and Luna left her in peace. She walked out the door in the back of the lobby that led to the rear car park, and breathed in the brisk night air.

When she spotted Ronald by a lone, out-of-place-looking tree, however, Luna's breath came in short pants, which really did not suit her at all; she was more of a long skirt kind of girl.

Ronald leaned against the tree, and a bright light shone down upon him, from a lamppost high up above. He was all that could be seen in the car park, though even if he wasn't, he would have been all Luna saw.

Luna went over to him, but he did not look up at her; his gaze was fixated pointedly at the pavement. Instead of talking to him, Luna walked round the other side of the tree and leaned against it, just as Ronald was doing. He lifted one foot up, pressed against the tree, and held onto the bark with one hand. Luna did the same, though she could not see that he had done it.

They stood there for a long time, Ronald completely unaware of his companion and Luna aware of nothing but hers.

She breathed in the unnaturally cool night air, but all she could smell was him. The knowledge that she was just inches away from _him_, and he was not moving...it made her feel alive. She let her eyes close, and felt complete.

Luna noticed then that if a light shines on one's eyes when they are closed, one sees orange. Luna liked orange very much, especially at the moment, and so made it a point to thank the lamppost later on.

The world was silent, but for the distant beating of Ronald's heart; Luna still could not hear hers; perhaps it was because she was not breathing.

A while later, Ronald sank to the ground, back pressed against the tree still and knees reaching up to his chin. Luna did the same, unknowing.

As it were, Luna was seated in such a way that she was invisible from the hotel. If, say, someone had looked out of the window in room nineteen, all they would have seen would have been a form, clearly, leaning with his back against a tree. A light shone upon him, but his face could not be seen.

Assume, for a moment, that this someone knew Ronald Weasley very well — or at least _thought_ she did — and had known him for a long time. Say that she would recognise his silhouette.

Perchance this someone would realise how lonely Ronald was, knowing him so very well. Perchance this someone would realise that it was all _her_ fault that Ronald was lonely, and would therefore realise that she should call off their wedding because she was not the right person for him.

Is this plausible?

Perhaps not, but it was precisely what Luna hoped — wished, _desired with all her heart_ — would happen.

TBC


	2. The Breakfast Buffet

Disbelieving in Trees  
_ Potter47_

**_ Chapter Two  
The Breakfast Buffet _**

Next morning, most of the wedding guests turned up round the same time for the Hotel Corridor's specialty: its breakfast buffet. Luna sat at a window booth that just happened to overlook the car park, and also just happened to be next to the booth of the betrothed couple.

"What are you going to get?" Luna overheard Hermione say from next door.

Ronald sounded perplexed. "It's a buffet—I'll get what looks good."

"But don't you have an idea of what you _want _to get? I think I'm going to try the omelettes. I've heard the chef is excellent—"

Luna shook her head slightly, and told a passing waitress that she would be having the buffet. The waitress looked at her strangely. Luna stood up to get her food.

Taking a plate—rather warmer than she'd expected—from the stack, Luna stepped into the end of the line.

"Hey!" said the last person in line. "You stepped right into me!"

"Sorry," said Luna. "I was trying to reach the milk cartons."

The last person in line narrowed her eyes at Luna, but did not say anything more. Luna proceeded to take four milk cartons—one of each variation; skim, one per cent, two per cent, whole, and chocolate—and put them on her plate. She realised she would need another plate for her food, and reached back to get one—only to collide with the _new _last person in line, who happened to be Ronald.

"Oh, hello," said Luna. "Good morning, Ronald. What are you doing here?"

"Getting my food," said Ronald, sounding almost uncomfortable. "You're kind of holding up the line..."

And Luna noticed that she had not been moving, while a gathering crowd had gathered into a crowd behind Ronald.

"Oh," she said, and stepped towards the next tray, a plate in each hand.

They were both silent for a few trays, and then Luna spoke up:

"So, how was your latest argument with Hermione?"

Ron blinked, and Luna wondered if he'd thought he'd heard wrong—or perhaps even imagined that she'd said anything at all. She liked it when people thought she hadn't said anything at all—then they started to act silly. And she could play with them.

"What?" said Ronald.

"I didn't say anything," said Luna.

"Oh—" said Ronald. "I...I thought you did. But I guess not..."

Another tray of silence, and Luna picked up several pieces of bacon.

"So how was it?"

"You did say it!"

"Of course I did—what made you think I didn't?"

Ronald stopped, tried to decipher this, but gave up after a moment. "Which argument do you mean? The one this morning, in the hotel room, or the one a minute ago, at the table?"

"Whichever."

Ronald let out a breath. "Same as ever, I guess. But...don't start saying how she's wrong for me again. You don't know what you're talking about."

"I hadn't planned on it," said Luna, as she came to the end of the buffet table. "Have a nice breakfast."

Luna made her way back to her seat. Before that, however, Hermione had stood up from_ her _seat—just after her argument with Ronald—and made _her _way to the buffet. The omelettes, to be precise.

Stepping into line at the table designated for omelettes, Hermione picked up a plate and waited patiently. After a few minutes, the chef looked up at her:

"Mushrooms, please, with cheddar," Hermione said, and she was surprised to hear another voice, colder, snarl precisely the same words. Looking up, Hermione saw that she had stepped into line just after Professor Snape.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, "I thought it was my turn."

"Of course you did," said Snape coolly. "What else would you say?"

"I—I don't know," said Hermione, and she was silent as Snape's omelette sizzled before them.

"Thank you, again, for coming," said Hermione. "I...I'd thought you would rather do anything than attend a wedding."

"Oh, I would," said Snape, smirking. "But I felt obliged to attend, considering the...circumstances."

"Anyway, thank you," said Hermione, and Snape accepted his omelette from the chef, "it means a lot to us—"

"To you, you mean," said Snape, stepping aside from the line. "I mean nothing to Weasley, and I've worked hard to maintain that level of achievement."

He walked away, and Hermione waited for her omelette in silence.

Back at her table, Luna was pouring her four milks into the four glasses set round the table. She then switched them round and tried to forget which was which.

"Luna?" said a soft, awkward voice, startling her out of her concentration. "Can I sit there?"

Luna looked round and saw that Ronald was peering over the top of the booth. She blinked a few times, and then: "Of course, Ronald. What else would I say?"

Ronald let out a breath and came around to her booth.

"Thanks a million," he said. "I don't want to talk to Hermione right now. She's...upset."

"About what?" said Luna.

Ronald glanced across to the omelette table nervously.

"Hey, Luna," he said. "Do you mind if I sit on that side?"

—_because I don't want Hermione to see me here, _Luna mentally finished for him. Part of her wanted to refuse, thinking _Why shouldn't she see you here?_ but the rest of her wanted to make Ronald feel better, and if the only way to do that was to sacrifice her seat, then by golly she'd do it.

"Of course." They stood, switched places, and sat back down.

"Thanks again," said Ronald.

"Any time. What were you saying about—"

"Whose milks are these?" said Ronald now, pointing to the four glasses in front of him perplexedly.

"Mine," said Luna. "But you're free to one if you want it—"

"Are they all the same?" he said. "I mean, I know this one's chocolate, but—"

"That's the fun part. You have to guess which one's which."

Ronald looked at them suspiciously, but then simply clasped his hand round the chocolate glass and took a swig.

"Chocolate's fine," he said, and Luna began to pout.

An idea unfurling within her mind, Luna drew her wand—causing Ronald to nearly spill his milk.

"There're _Muggles_ here," he hissed.

"Hermione's rubbing off on you," said Luna contemptuously, once again. "It'll be fun."

"What'll be fun?" he said, but she was already muttering something under her breath.

One of the milks began to light up, though it seemed rather unlikely for a milk to light up.

"That one's whole milk," said Luna, indicating the lit milk. "Keep your eye on the whole."

And now the light faded and Luna began waving her wand in complicated gesticulations—the milks began to dance round the table, switching places with each other, jumping, spinning, Apparating, and every other trick in the book that has never been written about dancing milks. Finally, Luna sliced her wand through the air and the milks came to a stop.

"Now pick one," said Luna. "Try to find the whole."

Ronald blinked.

"No, chocolate's fine," he said again, and Luna gave up—on the milks, of course, because there were other things at the table that she would never give up on—the plates, for instance.

Luna glanced upward suddenly, and wondered why she did it. But she knew a moment later that it was a good thing that she had glanced upward because if she hadn't, she wouldn't have seen what she did see when she glanced upward.

Luna glanced upward suddenly, and noticed Professor Snape standing beside Hermione by the omelettes. He was saying something to her, and he seemed very bitter for some reason. And then he took his omelette from the chef, and walked away...

...but as he did, he glanced backward, for only a fraction of a milli-moment, at Hermione, and his expression altered for that same fraction of a milli-moment—he still seemed bitter, yes, but now Luna could tell what he was bitter _about_.

Luna's eyes widened, and she spoke, to herself, though of course Ronald thought she was speaking to him: "How did it take me so long to get twenty-two?"

And Ronald looked up at her, quite clearly confuzzled. "Excuse me?" he said.

"Well, I've just finally put two and two together, and—"

Ronald nodded suddenly, as if he'd heard enough, and he went back to hunching over his food in an attempt to appear invisible to Hermione, who was still waiting for her omelette and couldn't see him anyway. He didn't say anything else for a long time.

Luna mulled over her new discovery while she ate her food, and ate her food, and ate her food, not really looking at it while she ate it, until finally she heard the unpleasant scratching of the metal fork on the ceramic plate and that made her shiver and the shiver alerted her to the fact that she had finished her food.

Standing, Luna returned to the end of the buffet line, and the last person in said line shrunk away from her, looking downward. Luna wondered why.

The line moved slowly, and Luna found herself hungrier than she had been before her first trip up—this was part of her theory that if you are very hungry, and eat a little bit of food, it actually makes you hungrier than you would have been if you hadn't eaten anything at all. On second thought, this was her entire theory, not just part of it.

When she reached the bacon, she took several slices and began to nibble on one right there in the line, so hungry was she. She took more of the other foods as well, but didn't eat those in line.

Scrambled eggs? Check. They looked particularly fluffy, and Luna reckoned they'd just replaced the tray.

She scooped a scoop of whipped cream onto her bacon and a groan sounded beside her.

"You don't actually plan to _eat _that?" said the deep voice, and Luna looked up and saw Professor Snape was just behind her in line.

"What else would I do with it?" she replied, and dipped the bacon slice in her hand into the whipped cream on her plate and took another nibble.

Snape looked like he would be sick, and quickly looked down, away from Luna.

This was the perfect opportunity for Luna to voice her new idea:

"Professor, I have a preposition for you."

"Proposition," corrected Snape in what would have been a hiss if he was a snake but he wasn't a snake so it was a harsh whisper.

"How do you know? I could have had a preposition for you. Inside."

"What was your proposition?" he said, sounding frustrated to the point that he really wanted to go to his seat.

"I know why you're so bitter today."

Snape furrowed his brow. "That's not a proposition. I am always bitter, so you can just—"

"You don't want them together either," said Luna, paying him no heed.

"I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about," said Snape. "Please leave me alone."

"Of course you know what I'm talking about. I'm talking about Ronald and Hermione Granger. You fancy her."

Snape dropped his plate with a _clatter_, and blinked rapidly several times.

"I don't have the _slightest _idea of what you're talking about," he said now, sounding slightly unnerved as he picked up his plate and placed the fallen items back onto it.

"Yes you do. I saw how you looked at her a minute ago. You fancy her."

"That is a highly inappropriate thing to suggest, Miss Lovegood," he said, his voice not quite normal. He took a breath and let it out and moved with the line.

"That doesn't mean it isn't true."

With that, they reached the last tray, and Professor Snape seemed to be in a hurry to return to his seat. Luna nearly went back to her table, but she noticed Ronald standing up out of the corner of her eye, and decided to follow Snape instead—to pursue her preposition.

Proposition.

_But she noticed Ronald standing up_, you recall, and he did indeed stand up. After standing, he walked over to the buffet, and joined the line, eager for seconds. He wondered why you had to wait through the whole line just to get to the bacon.

"Where did you disappear to?" said Hermione bitterly, scaring Ronald terribly. He had not noticed that she was the person just in front of him in the line, which was terribly unobservant of him but terribly him just the same.

"Uh, nowhere," he said, unable to think of anything better to say.

"Sure," said Hermione, not sounding very sincere at all. "You know, Ron, if this is how we're going to be all the time, I almost wish I'd never come back."

Ronald supposed that he should have felt rather hurt by that, but he didn't. She had been gone for years—since the end of the war, when she had vanished. Ron never knew where she had been, or how she'd found her way home, but he'd been so relieved to see her again that he'd proposed on the spot (they'd been dating when she vanished, and...yes, well, that was probably the only reason).

This proposal was an event that Ronald had almost regretted many a time since. And then he'd regretted regretting it, because that was a horrible thing to regret. And then a small part of him regretted regretting regretting it, thinking that it had indeed been a mistake—but then the rest of him had regretted regretting regretting regretting it so much more convincingly that the small part hardly dared to mention any words that even sounded like 'regret' to the rest of him for a very long time.

"Sorry, then," said Ronald, but they both knew it wasn't a sorry for their arguments—it was a sorry that meant that there was nothing else to say.

After a few very awkward minutes Hermione left the line, and, being ahead of Ronald, returned to her seat without a backward glance, allowing Ronald to steal back into Luna's booth.

Luna, however, had followed Snape, who seemed rather agitated as he walked. She wondered if he realised she was trailing him...oh, he'd find out soon enough.

It seemed Snape was seated quite a distance from the buffet, somewhere in the deep recesses of the Hotel Corridor's Restaurant & Lounge; so far, in fact, that Luna realised he was actually in the _lounge _part of the Restaurant & Lounge. This point was solidified when she noticed that there were no tables or booths; instead, there were a great deal of bookshelves and several couches and loveseats. No, she'd been wrong; there _were _tables, but they were of the coffee variety.

Snape sat on the far side of the Lounge, in a section nearly completely obscured by bookshelves. Glancing at these shelves, Luna saw that the titles were all in French, with no English translation in little letters beneath; how inconsiderate.

He was facing away from her, so he was probably very surprised when she said, "I wasn't finished, you know."

He jumped slightly—_ever so _slightly, so slightly that it could be called ghtly instead, but that would make it difficult to pronounce.

"Will you leave me alone, Lovegood?" Snape said, and Luna felt that he sounded irritated. She wondered why.

"Of course not. I haven't made my pre—proposition yet."

Snape rolled his eyes to the heavens and then glanced at his watch. "Fine then—hurry up with it."

Luna cleared her throat, wanting to sound as official as possible.

"We must make them jealous."

Snape blinked, and was silent for a moment, as if dumbstruck. And then:

"What in _hell _are you talking about?"

"We both don't want this wedding to happen, Severus—"

"_Professor Snape_," he corrected, sounding indignant.

Luna's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as if saying, "You're not my professor anymore."

"We both don't want this wedding to happen," she said again. "And as such, we must _stop _this wedding from taking place."

"And how do you suppose we do that?" Snape said.

"Aha!" said Luna. "You are interested."

"I'm just playing along here, Lovegood. Humouring you."

"Right. Well, I suppose we do that by making them jealous, like I said."

"By?"

"Pretending that _we're _a couple."

Snape blinked several times once again. He was notoriously silent and notoriously snark-free. He glanced down at an empty glass of something and peered at it closely as if inspecting it for poison or something. He then looked back at Luna, and shook his head slightly, eyes narrow.

"You did not just say that. I am imagining this. In just a few moments I will awake and this whole thing will have been a dreadfully annoying dream..."

"No you won't," said Luna. "And yes I did."

Snape laughed then, loud and hard and uncontrollably and Luna looked at him worriedly as he did it; was he going to explode, she wondered? She'd never seen anyone explode before, and this seemed such a terrible time for a first time.

And then he plopped down in his half-eaten mushroom-and-cheddar omelette, unconscious. Luna's eyes widened.

"Severus?" she said, as if inquiring after his consciousness. Deciding he had indeed fainted, Luna stood and pulled him—with great effort—out of his seat. She sort of dragged him along the Restaurant & Lounge then, to the befuddlement of onlookers: "Why is Loony dragging the git along the restaurant? And lounge?"

Finally, she pulled the man past Hermione's table—and Luna's own, with Ronald seated low in the booth. Hermione practically bounced up in her seat at the sight of the Potions Master.

"What happened to him?" Hermione asked, bewildered.

"He fainted," said Luna.

"Yes, I can see that. But why are you dragging him?"

Luna almost said "Because I am going to tell you that the two of us are dating, therefore making you terribly jealous and convincing you to call off the wedding so that true love will not be proved false and Ronald will admit that we're perfect for each other," but instead she simply said, "Well, we're dating, you know, and we were just eating breakfast together and he just fainted, and I was going to bring him up to the room—"

"You're _what?"_ said Ronald and Hermione simultaneously, both wide-eyed and seemingly shell-shocked. Ronald had jumped up and twirled round somehow and was now kneeling on his seat, leaning on the top of the booth.

"Dating," repeated Luna. "Do you need me to speak up a bit?"

Ronald stared at Luna, gaping like a Grindylow out of water. Hermione, however, looked back at Ronald and put her hands on her hips. "So that's where you've been—were you _hiding_ from me?"

Ronald didn't answer—he seemed to have lost the power of articulation after that initial "You're _what?_", and he simply continued to gape. And when he didn't answer, Hermione turned back to Luna and gaped as well.

Suddenly, Snape's head lolled round and his eyes blinked open—before he could get a word out, Hermione demanded of him:

"You're dating_ Luna, _Professor?" she said, and all three of the others were rather shocked at her tone.

Luna was offended; Hermione said it as though to be dating Luna were to be dating the very lowest order of dust particle.

Ronald was offended for the same reason, though he didn't really know it.

And Snape was rather shocked to hear the slight bit of jealously in Hermione's voice, that bit of _'Why Luna? Why not me?_' that she had clearly intended to hide.

And in a moment Snape had considered all possible reactions to all possible replies to her statement. He chose the one he thought would lead to the _next _greatest reaction, one step further down the line.

"You say that as though to be dating Miss Lovegood were to be dating the very lowest order of dust particle," he said, measuring Hermione's reaction carefully.

She gaped at him a moment before turning to Ronald and physically pulling him over the edge of the booth. He banged his head upon the next table and scrambled to his feet.

"We're leaving," she said, dragging him towards the exit.

"Leaving?" said Ronald. "But I'm still hungry—" He glanced back at Luna with an unaccountable look, and as it would happen, just then an announcement sounded the end of the buffet.

TBC


	3. The Telephone Call

Disbelieving in Trees  
_ Potter47 _**__**

Chapter Three  
The Telephone Call 

Luna walked purposefully towards the door of the lobby and emerged upon the car park. He was there—she knew it, though of course she didn't know how she knew it because how can someone know how they know something? Or how they know how they know something?

It was dusk now, and not nearly as dark as the last time Ronald and Luna had stood in this place. He was leaning against the tree again, and whether it was because of the increased lighting or perhaps because he was more attuned to her aura, Ronald looked up.

He swallowed when he saw her and she did the same when she saw him—just because he did it first.

He didn't comment as she leaned against the opposite side of the tree, and he couldn't explain the odd sense of déjà vu he felt as she did it.

They closed their eyes now, just at the precise moment though of course they didn't know that. And then Ronald spoke:

"Snape...?"

"I prefer to think of him as Severus," said Luna, which was true.

Ronald shivered despite the warm air around them. "That is just wrong, Luna. He's like twice your age—"

"Oh, more than that," she said, smiling slightly to herself. If one wasn't paying attention, they might have thought Ronald had done the same, but his smile was really a grimace.

"He's _more than _twice your age, then," said Ronald. He snorted slightly; "And you said _Hermione_ was too old for _me_."

Luna's back straightened slightly, and her eyes narrowed.

"Well, she is."

"That's a little hypocritical, don't you reckon?" said Ronald, fumbling round the word 'hypocritical.'

"You don't know what that means," said Luna. She wasn't insulting him; oh, no, she was just stating a fact. He didn't know and she knew he didn't.

"Yes I do."

"Only because of Hermione. That doesn't count."

"Now look who's being hypocritical!" said Ronald. Luna blinked.

"When were you?" she asked, and he fell silent. She felt this was a perfect opportunity to explain her hypocriticalness.

"Hermione _is _too old for you," she said again. "Because the girl is _supposed _to be younger than the boy. That's how it works."

"Yeah? And why is that?"

"Well, have you ever heard a fairy-tale that had a handsome prince rescue a beautiful princess's great aunt?"

"What? Well, no. But why would he?"

"Exactly."

Ronald didn't really understand what she was talking about, but it was different than when he didn't understand Hermione; because Luna wouldn't try to explain, and Hermione would spend hours trying to force the idea into his brain. He didn't know which he preferred, though of course he did and just didn't want to admit it.

Luna continued in her earlier point:

"It's all right for the boy to be older than the girl, of course—Severus is a lot older than me, yes, but I'm also a lot younger than him, and that balances it out, you know?"

"No," said Ronald simply, and Luna smiled. Hermione would have smiled 'despite herself', Luna reckoned, and that phrase only meant that the person didn't smile enough.

——

Hermione closed the hotel room door behind her, slightly out of breath, with a strange, unsettled feeling in her chest. She leaned against the back of the door, still holding the knob with both hands behind her back, and just sort of looked at nothing and thought a moment.

Letting out a breath—or had she taken one in?—she stepped away from the door and went over to her side of the bed...plopped herself down on the mattress and stared at nothing once again for quite a time. And then, something hit her.

Idea in mind (which is really a rather boring place for it to be), Hermione reached over to the Muggle telephone on her bedside table, and dialled very quickly, so that if she hadn't been so careful, she likely would have made a mistake and called Switzerland or something.

It rang on the other end, and barely had finished that very first ring before a squeaky little voice piped up on the other end: "Harry Potter's residence, this is Dobby speaking, how may Dobby help you?" Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, she heard from the background: "How many times have I told you _not _to answer the phone like that, Dobby? You know I don't like people knowing this number—" And then that same voice was louder and clearer, clearly having taken the phone from the House-elf.

"Hello?" said Harry.

"You know, you shouldn't treat him like that just because he answered the phone a way you don't like—"

"Gee, this couldn't be Hermione, could it?" said Harry sarcastically, and ignored her comment, having heard it many times before. "What's up?"

Hermione was sure her voice sounded rather urgent: "Is Ginny there, Harry? I mean, I know she probably is, but if she's sleeping—"

"Sleeping? Ha!" said Harry. "She never sleeps anymore, practically—though I reckon it'd be easier for her to, if she didn't insist on midnight ice-cream runs—" His voice was louder and yet distant: "Ginny! Hermione's on the telephone!" He was back at the receiver: "She'll be down in a minute."

"Isn't there a phone in the bedroom?"

"Er... no... wouldn't that sort of inhibit _sleeping?_" Hermione didn't respond. Harry, however, made conversation: "So, is Ron there? I mean—of course he's _there_, but is he in the room?"

"Oh, no," said Hermione, almost sounding bitter. "He went for a 'walk.' I think he's out in the car-park—"

"God, you two weren't fighting _again_, were you? Well, you're unique at least; you never hear about people bickering like a young engaged couple, do you?"

"Ha, ha," said Hermione rather sardonically. "So, how is life at the Scarburrow?"

"We've been a bit lonely since you guys went off...I won't mention the times I've had to actually _chase_ Ginny when she decides she's going to run off to France... Honestly, I reckon it's not at all healthy to be pregnant—ah, here's Ginny."

Hermione heard the sound of the phone changing hands—she had never really thought to try to decipher what it sounded like—and Ginny's voice was in her ear. "Hey, Hermione," she said—a pause—"Go away, Harry."

A moment later, Ginny spoke again: "So, how is the bride-to-be?"

"Oh, I'm fine, I'm fine..." began Hermione, twirling the phone-cord in her fingers and furrowing her brow; she walked over to the window and moved the curtain out of the way, biting her lip, "...except I'm not sure about this at all."

"Oh, really? I'm sure you're the first witch ever to feel that way—"

"Did you have second thoughts about Harry?" Hermione said, almost slightly relieved.

"Er...no, not really," said Ginny in a voice that indicated that she very much wished Hermione hadn't asked. Hermione was deflated once more. "But the vast majority do, I'm positive. It's completely normal."

"Yes, but is it completely normal to almost vaguely be utterly jealous of Luna Lovegood?"

Silence. Then:

"Well, I used to envy her privacy and lack of brothers—"

"That's not what I mean," said Hermione.

"Well, what _do_ you mean?"

"She just..." Hermione looked out the window again, at Ron in the car-park and her heart lurched strangely, "she has this _connection_ with him, she always has, I've felt it before...and they never seem to argue..."

"Well, most couples argue—" interjected Ginny.

"Do you and Harry?"

"Er...yes?" Ginny said, and it was almost a question. "I mean, not like you and Ron, but sure we argue..."

"About what sorts of things?"

Ginny struggled for a moment, and then sort of pathetically said, "Ice-cream flavour? I prefer strawberry, and he likes chocolate—"

"You're not really helping, Ginny, you do know that?"

"I had sort of figured."

"When we and Ron argue..." said Hermione, and she sat back down on the bed, looking at the floor, "it always has been about the same things, hasn't it? I mean, if we could just settle our differences about work and Snape—oh, yeah, _Snape_," said Hermione, sounding utterly flustered once more and overcome with words. "Have you heard the news about _him?_"

"What? Did he wash his hair?"

"Yes, actually," said Hermione, furrowing her brow, noticing that she hadn't noticed, "but that's not what I'm talking about. He's _dating_ Luna."

Silence. And it wasn't the shocked silence that Hermione had expected.

"Hello?" said Hermione, thinking for a moment that the connection had been lost. But then Ginny spoke:

"Luna?" she repeated in a thoughtful voice. "But Luna would never date anyone but—" And then the thoughtfulness turned to epiphany: "_She's trying to make you jealous!_" said Ginny very quickly, and then she erupted in a fit of giggles. "I never thought she'd actually do it..."

"What? Do what?" said Hermione, who felt rather lost.

After Ginny had calmed, she said, "Get lost Harry, this is private," and Hermione assumed that Harry had entered the room once again. Then: "Oh, Hermione, that is just _hilarious..._"

"I don't see it," said Hermione, shaking her head.

"Don't you? Luna knows that you've always had a soft-spot for Snape, and she's _exploiting_ that to her advantage... oh, clever girl... but why on earth would Snape agree to it?"

"I have a soft spot for Snape?" said Hermione, bewildered. "When was I going to be told?"

"Oh, you never noticed it? Like you just said, you and Ron always argue about him more than anything else; that's because in your crazed, _'Free the House-elves!_' mind, you see Snape as someone to be pitied, which none of us have ever really understood—he's not an elf, Hermione, and we've tried to get you to understand that..."

"I know that he isn't an elf Ginny, and if you think I don't than I don't think it's _me_ who's mind should be called _crazed_," said Hermione in one breath. "And I don't pity him—"

"Slow down," said Ginny, who was still chuckling between words for some reason that Hermione would _never_ understand... "Now listen carefully, Hermione: Luna is trying to make you jealous of her, so that you would, for whatever convoluted reason that anyone would do so, leave Ron in favour of Snape. Then she can have Ron."

"That sounds selfish—"

"It _is _selfish, Hermione, but then what isn't?"

"So what am I supposed to do?" Hermione said, and Ginny didn't answer for a minute.

"Ginny?" said Hermione again.

"Oh... I'm here, don't worry, it's just... I'm really not the most experienced person when it comes to things like this... I mean, no one's ever tried to interfere with me and Harry but Voldemort, and I don't really think that's the same sort of situation..."

"Well...thanks, Ginny," said Hermione, and she felt rather deflated. "Remember, the wedding's—"

"Tuesday, I know, I know," said Ginny. "I'll be there the night before, I don't care what anyone says about travelling."

They said their good-byes, and Hermione put the phone back on its cradle, and laid back on the bed, staring up at the swirling plaster of the ceiling and thinking.

She heard a rather loud noise from above her...and again...and again. She wondered how she hadn't heard it before, because now that she thought about it, it hadn't just started.

And then, something hit her.

Well...it more sort of floated down onto her wafted its way down to her...it was bits of dust-like plaster that fell from the ceiling, and it landed in Hermione's hair, and on her shoulders. She looked up, and suddenly her ears kind of recognised that it was the sound of...the sound of something sounding as though it were a person jumping up and down above her, but of course that couldn't _really _be it...

Hermione ran through her mind: who's room was above theirs? She didn't think it was any of the wedding guests'...

Standing, then, Hermione took one last glance out of the window, and saw Ron was still just standing there, leaning against the tree, and it almost looked as though he were having a conversation with the wind.

And now Hermione not only felt jealous of Luna, but of the wind as well...she shook her head to clear it, and marched out of her room, looking back and forth... she went left, towards the lifts, and soon was stomping back towards the room directly above hers...

The door was _open_, and that was rather strange...when Hermione peered into the room, she saw no luggage or anything, and reasoned that this room must not have any occupants. She could hear that the sound _had _in fact come from here...

Glancing down both ways of the hall, Hermione stepped into the room and peered around the corner, past the edge of the wall that formed the loo...and saw a small, Muggle boy that looked around ten. And... he _was _jumping up and down, repeatedly, just above where she had been downstairs... he had even, apparently, moved the bed over to have better access to the exact spot.

"What _are_ you doing?" Hermione said in her best former-Prefect-and-Head-Girl voice.

The boy looked round at her, and stopped jumping, looking crestfallen.

"Nothin'," he said.

"You most certainly weren't doing nothing!" said Hermione, and her cheek twitched because it had been a double-negative and she didn't like improper speech. "You were doing something! You were jumping up and down repeatedly just above my bed!"

"Well..." said the boy, and he sounded very meek and innocent and _cute_. "This nice weird lady said she'd give me a magic pirate-coin if I did this for her!"

Hermione's face flattened and her mouth became very a very thin line. "Nice weird lady?" she repeated suspiciously. "And what exactly did this nice weird lady...look like?"

The boy screwed up his face in thought, and then said, "She was tall."

"How tall?"

"Taller than me."

Hermione groaned, and asked again: "But what did she _look_ like?" Hermione didn't really see the point... she already knew the answer. But she needed proof.

"She had big eyes," said the boy. "And yellowish-brown hair." And then his face lit up, having remembered the good part: "And she had veggies on her ears! It looked funny!"

Hermione let out a breath, and let one in. _Breathe._ She had to breathe. _Calm down, Miss Granger_, she told herself

She stormed out of the room, into the hallway, and then back into the lift. When the doors had closed, and she was alone, Hermione let out a sort of muffled roar of frustration: "OUUUUUUHRGH!"

And then she looked at her reflection in the mirror that was on the back wall of the lift. She saw the absolutely furious expression on her own face, and snarled to herself:

"This means _war!_"

_ TBC...please review. _


	4. The Great Fall

**THIS STORY IS PRE-HBP. IT ALWAYS HAS BEEN PRE-HBP. IT ALWAYS WILL BE PRE-HBP. ALL CHARACTERS ARE WRITTEN WITH THEIR PRE-HBP SELVES IN MIND, SO YOU WON'T HEAR LUNA MENTIONING ANYTHING ABOUT MISSING EYEBROWS OR GUM DISEASE.**

Disbelieving in Trees  
_ Potter47 _**__**

Chapter Four  
The Great Fall 

"Do you think Humpty Dumpty was pushed?"

Snape blinked. "What?" he said, looking up from his crossword—it was a Muggle one, which Luna reckoned made it very simple (the words stayed put) and very difficult at the same time.

Luna was laying on her bed, staring at the ceiling with her arms wide over the bedspread. He was seated at the desk, ignoring her. They had (without all that much discussion) decided that to keep up the appearance of being a couple, they would have to have so-called 'alone time.' Luna had made sure everyone noticed him following her to her room that morning, after a very tense-yet-uneventful breakfast which had been the polar opposite of the previous day's.

Luna had sat with Severus this morning in the Lounge, while Ron and Hermione actually sat _together_ in the Restaurant. Both groups were somewhat quieter than normal (not to say that Severus was usually an avid meal-talker) and before Luna noticed, she was full.

Since then—it had been two hours or so ago, and was now about noon—the two of them, Luna and Severus, had been much as they were now, not speaking to each other much at all.

"I said, do you think Humpty Dumpty was pushed, Severus?"

Snape blinked again, his mouth falling open rather stupidly. "Lovegood, I find myself growing wary of asking, but what on earth are you talking about?"

Now Luna blinked, and she sat up on the bed, propping herself up with her arms.

"Don't tell me you don't know about Humpty Dumpty," she said incredulously.

Snape shook his head slightly, as though deep in thought—"I don't believe so, Lovegood. Was he a house-elf?"

"No. He was an egg."

"An egg? You mean he was transfigured, surely?"

Luna shook her head. "No, he was just an egg—have you _really _never heard it, Severus?"

"Heard what?"

Luna's mouth fell open much as Severus's had done. "That's so sad!" she said. "Never even heard of Humpty Dumpty... goodness, Severus, how did you spend your childhood?"

Severus quirked an eyebrow. "Do you really want to know?"

"Not particularly, no," said Luna, "because it's not a very pleasant tale, surely—although perhaps you _were_ a very happy young boy because you weren't exposed to the sorrow of Humpty's story..."

"Just tell me who the damned egg was, Lovegood, and be done with it. You're breaking my concentration."

Luna sighed. "_Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall_," she recited, "_Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the king's horses and all the king's men, couldn't put Humpty together again._"

There was silence for a moment as the words passed through Severus's head. "How sad," he said then, emotionlessly, and turned back to his crossword.

Luna sighed once again, and let herself fall back onto her back. "Severus, you really need to work on your people skills."

He snorted, and then groaned, as though he found what she had said amusing despite himself, and was agitated that she had broken his concentration once again.

"Oh, yes, you have _wonderful_, 'people skills' yourself, Lovegood—"

"Well then, you really need to work on your _tone_, is that better?" she said, her gaze following the swirls of plaster across the ceiling.

"Sure," said Severus, and he turned back to the paper once again.

Luna's gaze reached the edge of the wall and the ceiling, and she furrowed her brow. Propping herself up once again, she scooted herself off the bed as quietly as possible. Making sure her feet were silent on the rug, she walked over behind Severus at the desk.

He didn't notice her, and she could see the crossword puzzle in his hand that he was holding against the wooden desk. Only two words were filled in. Something clicked in her head.

"That must be very difficult, Severus," she said, and he jumped noticeably in his seat.

"Lovegood—" he spat, breathing heavily, "never sneak up on me—"

"You've been working on that for about two hours, haven't you, Severus?" said Luna, and Snape's eyes widened ever-so-slightly in an _I'm found-out _manner.

"I told you not to call me that," he said then, having nothing better to say.

"Why? It's a lovely name."

"Exactly."

"That seems childish." Luna returned to her point: "Even you, Severus, in your horrendous lack-of-Humpty-Dumpty-knowing, surely could answer more than two of those in two hours?"

"What exactly are you insinuating?"

"I'm _insinuating_," said Luna, using his big word, "that you haven't been concentrating on that crossword puzzle at all, you've been concentrating on something _else._"

"And what might something _else _be?" said Severus, because he was most certainly not going to give himself away in case she was simply completely off.

"You were using Legilimency, weren't you?" said Luna, and Severus's shoulders deflated a bit and he let the crossword, which he had been clenching tightly in his fist, fall to the desktop. He didn't speak.

"You were spying on Hermione, weren't you?" said Luna then, continuating her insinuating.

"Now, why on earth would I spy on—"

"Oh, you weren't?" said Luna, almost disappointedly. "Too bad—"

"Too bad?" said Snape. "How do you mean?"

"It's just a pity, because it might be a good idea, you know? It might help us with—"

"Shh," said Snape, and he was concentrating again. Luna grinned. This would be fun.

After a minute or so, Snape resurfaced from his mind (or from Hermione's?) and told Luna:

"She's concentrating on something... it is difficult to see just what it is..."

"But can't you just... I dunno... read her thoughts? Wouldn't she be thinking about what she is concentrating on?"

"That is not always the case," said Severus, and Luna felt that her newfound Severus-sense was tingling. Something wasn't quite right.

"Well, try."

He furrowed his brow, and his mouth moved in such a way that Luna reckoned he was roaming his tongue over his right bicuspid.

He closed his eyes, and his brow furrowed in concentration once again, and Luna noticed his left cheek twitched slightly. And after another few moments, he relaxed once more.

"I can't. She's blocking me out."

"She is not," said Luna, and now she understood. "You don't _want _to see into her thoughts, do you, Severus? You were just _watching her_."

Severus sighed now and Luna realised how odd it was to hear him sigh like that. He let his eyes close a moment, and then looked up at her in a very care-worn way, which was also very odd. He spoke in a more teacherly way than he had been.

"Miss Lovegood, do you understand how Legilimency works? One must... desire to see into another's mind, to see that person's most private and personal thoughts. And—" His voice actually _hitched _a moment, and Luna thought that the wonders would never cease, which meant that surely a Snorkack would be waiting outside her door when they went down to dinner. "And, Miss Lovegood, I have been sitting here in this chair for the past two hours, as you so kindly informed me, probing my way past that wall over there, into the next room, and finding Miss Granger's mind. She is not blocking me out, no, she doesn't have any idea I am there. But you see, as I said, one must wish to _see _into another's mind, and I—I can't. I've tried, Miss Lovegood, I have been perched quite literally on the edge of her thoughts for all the time you were laying purposelessly on that bed over there, and I have been unable to enter. And do you know why?"

Luna shook her head. She had never seen this side of Severus, and she doubted many people had.

"No," she said. "No, why?"

"Because, to enter a person's mind is the ultimate in unscrupulous invasiveness. One can never go back, can they? And I—" He smirked wryly. "Perhaps I'm just too nice a person—"

"That's so sad!" said Luna again, and she lunged at him then and encircled his neck in a very tight, Everything's-going-to-be-all-right hug. Severus looked as though he'd been strangled.

He finally managed to pry her away from him, and his breathing was very not normal. "What on _earth _was that supposed to be, Lovegood?"

"A hug," said Luna, and then her eyes widened even further, which seemed impossible. "Don't tell me you've never been hugged—" She made as though to embrace him again, but he put his hands out to prevent it.

"Stop it—yes, I've been _hugged _before, you can cease with the pity this instant—but goodness, you need to work on your hugging. People tend to like to breathe, I dunno if you've realised—"

Luna sat somewhat sadly back on the bed, and faced him with a very caring face.

"You really care for her, don't you Severus?" she said, and her brow was very high on her forehead. She could cry—

His mouth seemed to try to work itself into a smirk, a snarl, a grimace, and even a frown, but finally it just relaxed and he slumped backwards into the chair.

"Apparently," he relented.

Her heart reached out to him, and although it didn't work quite as his own mind reached out towards Hermione's, it did something: it gave her yet another bit of determination, that this wedding must not go forward.

"It's all right, Severus," she said in her most comforting voice, "Luna will make everything better..."

And he sent her a terrific glare, but she knew he didn't mean it, not really, his heart wasn't in it. She stood, and said, "This is going to be a war, you know," and she started walking back and forth, gathering her thoughts as she gathered her pace, "and it's going to be the most important war any of us have ever been in—ever _imagined _we'd be in... much more than Voldemort, than Grindelwald for you—"

"I am _not _old enough to have—"

Luna continued, heedless: "We must wage this war, not on Hermione, not on Ronald, of course—they are merely soldiers such as ourselves, misguided in their beliefs. We must wage this war on _thoughts._"

"What on earth are you—"

"This war is between what we _think_ and what we _know, _inherently, inside ourselves. I _know_ that I belong with Ronald—he _thinks _he belongs with Hermione. You _know _you belong with Hermione, deep down, and she _thinks _she belongs with Ronald."

"So what are we supposed to do about all this?" he said, as though humouring her but of course that was just his _tone _again.

"We have to convince them of what they already know," said Luna with a bit of _this is my whole point _relish. It was so much sweeter than the green kind.

Severus mulled this all over in his mind, and then he picked up his crossword again, and tapped it a couple of times with the Hotel Corridor pen he'd been holding the whole time. Then he said:

"You first."

—— 

Luna walked down the hotel corridor of the Hotel Corridor, trying to think of just what the first attack would entail.

Step, step, step, went Luna's feet, making sure not to step on the lines in the carpet. She chewed on her tongue, deep in thought.

And then she stopped short, turned tail (though she didn't have one, of course) and went back the other way.

Stopping in front of number nineteen, she made her hand into a fist and knocked firmly, three times—hesitated—and knocked twice more.

There was no immediate response, so she knocked once again, and pressed her eye to the peephole. She frowned—it didn't work very well backwards.

Then, quite suddenly, a blue eye appeared on the other side of the glass, and Luna blinked. The eye jumped back in surprise.

"Luna, what are you—" said Ronald, pulling open the door, breathing heavily.

"Human," she said impatiently, and looked around inside the room. "Is Hermione here?"

"Er—no," said Ronald, shaking his head. "She's... she's out in the car park."

Luna's eyebrows shot up. "The car park?"

"Yeah," said Ronald, nodding. "Dunno why." Then he shook his head again, and Luna wondered if he was getting dizzy. "What do you want with Hermione?"

_A spell duel_, Luna thought, but she said: "Oh, I just had a question about the wedding—"

"Well you could ask me, couldn't you?" Ronald said, a bit defensively.

"Erm—no," said Luna, thinking on her feet, because there were no chairs in the corridor. "It's a... bridesmaid question."

"Oh," said Ronald, and he appeared to be biting the inside of his cheek. "You're right, you'd better ask Hermione."

They stood awkwardly for a minute—Ronald more so because it was difficult to tell when Luna was doing something awkward—and then Luna said, "Are you going to invite me in?"

"I dunno," said Ronald. "I thought you wanted to talk to Hermione."

"Well, I can wait for her," Luna said, and she made to step over the threshold, but her foot 'caught' on the floor, propelling her off her feet and into Ronald's arms.

"Careful!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Luna, smirking to herself—somehow she managed to get back to her feet on Ronald's _other _side, and was now in the room.

"Since when do you trip?" he said, brow furrowed. "You've always just seemed to _glide—_"

"So, Ronald," said Luna, walking over to the window and peering out—Hermione was still in the car park, standing by the very tree Ronald and herself had stood against twice before, "how is everything?"

Luna wondered what Hermione was doing.

"Er...fine," said Ronald. He blinked twice quickly when Luna fell backwards (intentionally) onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. "What are you doing here, Luna?"

"Waiting for Hermione, I told you," said Luna, noticing with amusement the rather shabby-looking ceiling.

"Couldn't you just go out to the—"

"Of course not, because I would invariably miss her on the way down—you know, she'd end up coming up just as I was going down so I'd end up out there alone and have to come all the way back up here, and that's not fun."

Ronald blinked again—Luna wondered why he blinked so much; it was unnatural.

"Right," he said, and scratched the back of his neck. "Erm... so, what have you been doing lately?"

Luna smirked, simply to see what he'd do if she smirked.

"Er—never mind," said Ronald quickly, and shook his head with a bit of a nauseated look. "I... er... I need to use the loo." He didn't move immediately, and was watching her watch him upside-down from her spot on the bed.

"It's over by the door," said Luna helpfully.

"Right," Ronald said.

_He seems confuzzled about something_, Luna thought as the door closed behind him. _I wonder what...?_

Luna stood up, glanced out the window again to make sure Hermione was still busy and a safe distance away, and then went over to her sootcase—she knew it was Hermione's because it said "HG" in very proper-looking letters, and Hermione had always been very supportive of Harry and Ginny's relationship.

Earlier that day, Luna had discovered, by way of Severus, that Hermione had been misleading when she told Luna to pack a sootcase. You _weren't_, apparently, supposed to pack your clothes with soot at all.

And now, Luna had her wand in her hand as she opened Hermione's sootcase—suitcase, actually, Severus had said—ready to blacken Hermione's clothes with magical ashes. But when she _popped _open the suitcase, it wasn't clothes that met Luna's eyes.

Said eyes widened as they took in what she saw now. Papers upon papers had been neatly thrown inside, all headed with the distinguishing word "REVENGE." And there were plans upon plans here that had been brainstormed, apparently, to _get back at Luna herself!_

_But why would she want to get back at me?_ Luna wondered. _What did I ever do to Hermione?_

She bit her lip, then, and thought that perhaps the incident with the little boy had something to do with it... but when she had met him, she had had this _inherent feeling _that he would be a wonderful jump-up-and-downer, and she couldn't just _ignore that..._

And then there was the whole make-them-jealous plot, but surely—_surely_—Hermione knew nothing of that...

But then Luna saw another paper—the back of one that had been covered in tiny planning—with the words _I do not have a soft spot for Snape_, _I do not have a soft spot for Snape _written again and again in an attempt to convince the writer that they were true.

Luna grimaced—_Ginny must have told her,_ she figured. Luna had suggested the make-Ronald-jealous idea back in school, to Ginny, back when Ron and Hermione had been dating, before the latter had disappeared. Ginny hadn't taken her seriously then, especially when Luna had mentioned Severus as the ideal candidate, but it was the only logical explanation that didn't involve political scandal, which for once Luna felt probably had nothing to do with it.

Luna was having, oddly, an odd time thinking at the moment. She was trying to explain things in her head that she never would have thought she would have to explain, things that were utterly _mundane _in origin, and the words were sort of muddling round her head, not making much sense. She felt almost dizzy, and not good-dizzy like she felt around Ronald. Bad dizzy, like when she had spun round in a circle on her mother's broom when she was little, to see what it felt like—though not quite as bad as when she had done so off the ground.

_Hermione knows,_ Luna thought, and she tried to fix everything up right neat again in the soot—suitcase, and she closed it and put it right where she'd found it, and she stood too quick and she couldn't see right and she fell over, onto the bed, and closed her eyes a minute. _Hermione knows._

She tried to breathe, in-and-out, but only managed out-and-in, which threw her off spectacularly. A minute later, she heard a flush from the loo, and then the door opened and Ronald was there and she was in a wrong state.

"Luna? You don't look so good—"

"I'm not feeling so good either," said Luna, and she stood shakily, reaching her arms out for something to lean on, the desk perhaps or the dresser—she hadn't expected Ronald to be right there, and that was strange because normally she always knew where he was.

He caught her arm and put it over his shoulders, and Luna was vaguely, vaguely amused by the thought that Ronald had had far too much experience in helping people who were injured or not feeling great.

He took a step towards the door, and waited for her to do the same. She did, hesitantly, and then he took another, and so did she, but at the third step she collapsed against him, limp.

"God, what _happened_, Luna?" he said, and tried to get a better hold on her.

"Nervous breakdown," she informed him helpfully. "I can't walk, by the way—"

He almost laughed at the way she said it, but didn't, and just then the door burst open and Hermione was there, silhouetted on the threshold.

"What the—Luna, what are you doing in here?" she said suspiciously, ignoring Luna's closed eyes, limp body, and nauseated expression.

"She's sick, or something," Ronald said, "I dunno what happened—"

Luna attempted to furrow her brow, because she'd just told him it was a nervous breakdown, but she couldn't manage it and she certainly couldn't correct him out loud.

"Was it something she ate?" Hermione said, not leaving the doorway, not stepping closer, and still with an edge in her voice. "Could those buffet-scrambled-eggs have been funny?"

"I ate them, too," said Ronald, and Luna lurched to one side, partly because she wanted to leave the room, to lay down in her bed, away from Hermione, and partly because she wanted to see if Ronald would let her go. He didn't. "And she seemed fine a few minutes ago—"

"But what was she doing in here?"

"She was looking for you!"

"Why?" said Hermione, that 'edge' in her voice suddenly resembling a razor's.

"Something about the wedding, bridesmaids, something—"

"Oh," said Hermione, sounding less suspicious.

"I think I should carry her—"

"What?" said Hermione. "No, you could levitate her instead—"

"When she's like this? And besides, isn't this place Muggle?"

Hermione conceded that point, but something about her made Luna feel Hermione would have very much preferred Luna not be carried, especially by Ronald. If she was able, Luna would have made a face.

"Fine," said Hermione, and Luna felt herself start to float in more way than one. She wasn't _really _floating, of course, because she could feel Ronald's arms under her, but then, that was why she was, too.

And he took a step, and it jostled her slightly but Luna felt at peace. Her mind was sorting itself out, putting the right thoughts in the right places again, slowly slowly slowly, and she felt the itsy-bitsiest bit better.

And then Ronald took another step, and another, and _finally _they had reached the door, but Hermione was still standing there.

"Erm... could you—let us through?" Ronald said.

"Oh!" said Hermione, who apparently hadn't realised that she had been in the way—Luna doubted this very much—and scampered off to one side.

Ronald carried her over the threshold, and Luna saw the difference in lighting through her closed eyelids—while inside the room had been moderately dark, lit only through the half-open windows, out here was brightly and fluorescently lit, making the corridor appear very bright orange.

"Er...she's next door, right?" said Ronald, and Luna nodded against him just before Hermione said, "Yes," and he walked slowly to number twenty-one, which took much longer than it should have but Luna didn't mind.

"Uh—do you have your key-thingy?" Ronald asked Luna, and she shook her head against him. "Oh, great—Snape!"

This struck Luna as an odd exclamation of frustration, she opened one eye and saw that Severus had opened the door.

"Weasley," he said coolly in response. "Did something happen to her?"

"Oh, no, I just _felt like _carrying her back—"

Luna smiled slightly.

"You never know, do you?" said Snape wryly, and backed up into the room, keeping the door as far open as possible. "I daresay the bed would be a good place," he added, when Ronald seemed uncertain of what to do next.

"Right," he said, and with some reluctance Luna felt herself—a few steps later, of course—be let down onto the cool bed.

The moment Ronald's hands left her back, Luna felt uncannily drowsy and her eyes closed and her mind went blank and she fell asleep.

_TBC...please review._ **__**

Author's Notes 

I've never really done this before, but I've decided it might be a good idea, and a way to convince you all that I _really _value your reviews, which I do...

I'll start from the beginning, the very first review of this fic:

**wvchemteach - **Thank you! I know that you wrote this particular review about four months ago, but as I said, I'm starting from the beginning. As I may have said before, I don't really see Luna as a difficult person to write, as I tend to find it very easy to get into her head (or perhaps I'm already there?)

**Deep Grey - **Humorous puns? Is that supposed to be a _joke?_ :)

**taylor - **As you can see, yes.

**crzyangelchic - **About the sootcase... that part sort of just flew out of my fingertips, I didn't even think of it consciously. And every time I proofread the chapter, it took me by surprise...

**Tahlya - **Yes, I love my title very much, but I love open-minded R/Hers (or any other shippers) even more. A couple years ago, I wrote a poem called 'Obviously,' which opposed R/H, and the response was not nearly as...civil as my more recent non-R/H writings...thank you. Also, I didn't even know there _were _chain hotels in France (or that they would be anything like the ones elsewhere) and I really just wanted to be on the safe side with the author's note...

**Penny Lane - **I take it you're a Beatles fan? And a Luna fan? Hmm...excellent combination, in my opinion. Have you ever heard of a story of mine called "Believe in Yesterday," by any chance...? It might interest you.

**Kaladelia Undomiel - **You certainly like troubling authors like me who try to spell your name in responses to reviews, don't you? And yes, I like serious-Luna—if you want a more serious Luna, check out my story "Believe in Yesterday"—it's mainly about her mother's death.

**gollyg20 - **Thank you!

**JaneIsDead - **Your name makes me rather sad...it reminds me of "Joan of Arcadia," which was recently cancelled... oh, I miss that show... (Yes, the story is continuing.)

**Anony Miss - **Interesting word, "kloply." Is it a technical term?

**crzyangelchic - **What was what announcement? Oh, I've just looked back... no, that was just the hotel-people saying that breakfast was over. I'm sorry if I inadvertently left you hanging...

**SarahColdheart - **Why haven't you reviewed my Yesterday Sequence? Shame! Just kidding...but I do love the feedback, you know.

**Penny Lane - **Really? Wow, I've never had a fangirl before... I feel special.

**SeeStar - **If only more people would write them!

**pab99 **- Ahhhhhh... open-mindedness. I love that in a reader.

**BakaAngel **- Thank you! By the way, do you ever have difficulty spelling your name, what with the two "a"s right beside each other? Do you ever become BakAngel when you're very tired or you just don't care?

**S.C. Preclarus Noctis -** Nice name. I assume it's your real one? Thank you.

**S.C. Preclarus Noctis - **Thank you again, five days later.

**Ms. Snarky - **Well, that's who Luna is. She's not crazy... at least, she's just as sane as I am!

**Ms. Snarky - **Don't worry, I didn't think of it as patronising—partly because I read your second review first...sorry...but I wouldn't have anyway.

**NinitademiBrooke** - Thank you! Continue!

**Philipa Aleshre** - What is it with these names? And here I am, all alone in my corner with Pigwidgeon37 and Granger13...

**wvchemteach** - No, I've never noticed that, as I tend to avoid comparing my writing with classic authors...it tends to end badly, one way or the other. But it's quite a compliment, so thank you very much! And part of me wants to write a spell duel between Hermione and Luna, now you mention it... I just cracked up laughing at the thought... but I really doubt that's how it'll end. (I have a vague idea—this is much less planned out than the Sequence.)

**RavenEcho **-

_"Reader!" said I, "thing of fandom!--reader still, absurd or random!  
Whether reccer sent, or whether flamer tossed thee here ashore,  
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this fanfic site enchanted--  
On this home, Mary Sue haunted--tell me truly, I implore:  
Is my--is my fic worth reading?--tell me--tell me I implore!"  
Quoth RavenEcho, "I adore." _

**S.C. Preclarus Noctis - **Wow, an open-minded H/Her! No offence, but you're a rare breed.

**Kaladelia Undomiel - **I agree.

**Fairy -** Ingenious? Wow, that's a strong word...thank you! And an HG/SSer to boot? I feel honoured. (Though as I found earlier today, I share **Ms. Snarky's **favourites list with none other than Kaz (author of "Falling Further In") and that really made me feel "Wow." (I've never actually _read _FFI, as it's not finished and extremely long, and I don't know if I would want to read it anyway, but I know it's one of the classics, so that means something—perhaps that I overuse parentheses, perhaps something even _more_...important.)

**lovelacelove -** And I love readers who love Ron/Luna, just as you love Ron/Luna, **lovelacelove**, so I'm going for the record for the number of times the word 'love' can be used in a single sentence.

**TheSari - **Thank you! And I will!

**MsMissProngs** - Really? Seeing things how Luna sees them leaves _me _a bit...unperturbed.

**megan **- Hermione's mad at Luna because she doesn't _know _she likes Snape more than Ron. I hope you don't want to kill Hermione. Rage against fictional characters is never a good thing, and can lead to psychological problems down the line.

**Celess **- I hope you don't think it's _written _like a soap opera...? That would be a bit deflating, really...

**Philipa Aleshre **- I love it too. I will keep writing (and have, as you can see.)

**ME!-** Heh, your parents must be _weird _to name their kid that...

****

******sorry, i forgot **- Why must I get the reviewers with name issues? I'm glad you liked H and G in the chapter, because they're going to be back.

****

******twiggers **- This is why I probably shouldn't attempt to comment on every review.

****

******Penny Lane -** I'm very glad to hear that, because what author would want to hear something like "I really liked it, but I'm not going to read anymore. Sorry!" Thank you.

****

******NinitademiBrooke **- Thank you.

****

******Mirrorbay2000** - I will continue to updat, don't worry! Thank you

****

******EternalEcho **- Thank you very much, and you even reviewed each chapter individually! That's what we egotistical review-starved authors love, you know! (Although 'review-starved' doesn't exactly apply to this fic, does it?)

Keep reviewing! Please, please, please! 


	5. The New Tactic

Author's Note: It's been a very long time indeed since I posted a chapter of this story, but I recently decided that I am going to finish this, like my Yesterday Sequence, before the release of book seven. It should only be another chapter or two after this one. I hope it's been worth the wait. Please review.

Disbelieving in Trees  
_Potter47_

_**Chapter Five  
The New Tactic**_

Luna stayed in her bed for a very long time after being plopped unceremoniously onto her mattress by Ron. She had desperately needed the comfiness it afforded her, to calm her, to soothe her, to make her forget the terrible, dreadful discovery she had just made in the next room.

_Hermione knows,_ she thought. _What on earth do we do now?_

Finally--after the vast, vast array of milli-moments she had enjoyed undisturbed with her eyes closed--the thoughts had seeped back in. She opened her eyes, and when she did she saw it was quite dark, which was surprising, because it had been daytime when she had closed them.

"How do you feel?" said the deep, silky voice of Severus, making her jump slightly. He was seated beside the bed, in the rolly desk chair from across the room.

"Have you stayed here the whole time?" asked Luna. "How sweet of you... Really, you didn't have to--"

"Nonsense," said Snape. "And besides, I haven't i been /i here the whole time, as you might have guessed with your nosy little brain of yours..."

Luna smiled. She knew what he meant--he had been watching Hermione again, through his Legilimency. Never invading her, never truly penetrating her mind--just sitting on the edge of it. Resting. _Being_ with her. Luna thought it was the most romantic thing she'd ever seen, and she hadn't even seen it.

There were more important matters at hand, however. Or, rather, less important matters that were more pressing.

"She knows, Severus."

Severus blinked.

"What?" he said, although he clearly had heard perfectly well or he wouldn't have blinked.

"She knows. Hermione knows about our plan."

"How?"

"I think Ginny told her," said Luna.

"How on earth did she know?"

"Well, _I_ told her, of course. But that was years ago."

Severus blinked again, but decided to refrain from asking what she had meant, because he'd heard her perfectly well and didn't care to understand her one bit.

"Well, what do you suggest we do now, Lovegood?"

"Luna," said Luna.

"_Luna_," said Snape begrudgingly. Luna smiled. "What do you suggest we do now, _Luna? _I daresay we shan't go on pretending--"

"Shalln't," said Luna, and then: "Of course we will. Why on earth wouldn't we?"

"You said yourself that Hermione knows about us. And there's only one more day until the wedding. What good will it do to attempt to make her jealous if she knows very well that we're only trying to make her jealous? What good would it do anyway?"

"It will do plenty of good," said Luna. "There's no use giving up yet--we still have all day tomorrow, don't we?"

Severus was silent.

"We merely need..." began Luna, "to embrace a new tactic."

"And what do you suggest that _that_ be?"

Luna thought a moment, and then her eyes lit up with inspiration.

"You'll see."

——

The hotel corridor of the Hotel Corridor was decidedly empty, and such a fact was decidedly logical, as it was very late in the evening--it was, indeed, more than half way through the night.

_So perhaps it should be called the morning,_ thought Luna._ But then, if it was the morning, wouldn't that mean the night was over? And if the night was over, wouldn't that mean that the midpoint of the night had passed quite a while beforehand...?_

Luna shook such thoughts from her head. She was on an important mission: Phase One of the New Tactic. Phase Two, she felt, would be rather boring, so she had determined to enjoy Phase One very much indeed.

And so, Luna walked down the hotel corridor of the Hotel Corridor with a spring in her step, despite it having been summer for a few weeks now.

Finally, she found herself outside of the kitchens, which were also decidedly empty, and the door of which was decidedly locked.

She drew her wand stealthily, as she had done many a time when she was bored with a pen and paper and had nothing better to draw than a stealthy wand.

She murmured quietly, stealthily:

"_Alohomora!_"

The lock unlocked itself with a _click_, Luna turned the door handle with her hand and stepped inside with her foot. It was dark, but not quite so dark as would have made her not be able to see. And so, seeingly, she made her way to the refrigerator, and opened it. The light within glowed far brighter than she had expected, practically illuminating the entire kitchen and striking Luna of her adverb. She blinked a few times, and inspected the contents of the fridge.

She grinned.

——

"_Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall," _sang Luna, "_Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put humpty together again."_

Luna sat atop a stone wall at the edge of the hotel car park, and beside her sat a enormous crate of raw eggs, from the kitchens.

She took one of the eggs, threw it into the air, and it landed on the ground in front of her:

"Humpty jumped...!" she said, peering at the splattered egg and shrapnel down below on the pavement.

She took another egg and rolled it carefully off the side of the wall:

"Humpty was pushed...!" she said, this time, grinning in what some people may have called a rather maniacal way.

It continued on in this manner for a long, long while, because there were quite a few eggs indeed. With each new egg she alternated between theories: that is, whether Humpty's death was a murder or a suicide. It was a strange, rather twisted sort of version of "He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not." Luna was having a grand old time.

After a while, when all but a few of the eggs had been broken--and while Luna was declaring suicide once again--a figure appeared, visible beneath one of the lights that illuminated the car park, marching angrily towards the wall upon which she sat.

The voice shouted in a strong, stilted French accent: "WHAT--DO YOU THINK--YOU'RE _DOING..._?"

The Frenchman marched closer to her until Luna could see who he was; it was the eggman. The man who prepared the omelets at the Breakfast Buffet.

"Nothing," said Luna.

"_NOTHING_?!" demanded the Frenchman. He was fuming, smoke billowing out his tall white hat like a smokestack.

He was standing just below Luna now, looking straight up at her, his face contorted in rage. "I awake to prepare for this morning's breakfast, and what do I find...? The refrigerator has been cleared of every last fresh egg...! And then, what is it that I hear, but that most dreadful, horrible, _terrible_, indecent, awful, _appalling_, most evil, positively _satanic _noise--the noise of an egg cracking upon the ground."

Now he looked down at the Humpty Dumpty graveyard in which he stood.

"Oh...!" he said, and his voice caught in his throat. "Oh my shrapnel!"

He bent over, weak and teary-eyed, and began attempting to gather all of the shrapnel and egg into a solitary lump--this was a most messy business, and it seemed he was faring no better than all the king's horses had done before him.

Luna felt it was quite time to be leaving, and as such, she stood, preparing to leave the poor man in peace--but her eye caught sight of the few eggs remaining in the crate, and she simply could not resist.

"Humpty was pushed," she murmured to herself, and tipped the crate over the edge. The eggs splattered right into the chef's smokestack, and he let out a cry of anguish.

Luna darted away before he could yell once again and determine who she was. She felt a little bit bad for him--but, as she thought on the way back to the hotel, this was a war. Sacrifices had to be made.

——

Inexplicably, there were no omelets at the breakfast buffet that morning. Luna sat with Severus once again, but this time in the very next booth to the one in which Ron and Hermione sat.

"Phase One was a success," said Luna quietly. "It is time to begin Phase Two."

"And what is this Phase Two, may I ask?"

"Of course you may."

Severus waited a moment.

Then: "Well?"

"Well what?" asked Luna.

"What is this Phase Two?"

"Oh! You were asking? I thought you were merely asking if you _may_ ask. Oh yes, of course--Phase Two..." and she lowered her voice even more dramatically, and looked both ways as though to make sure no one was spying, "...is _friendship._"

"Friendship?"

Luna nodded. "It's the perfect blendship."

Severus blinked. He opened his mouth, but thought better of asking, once again. "Never mind," he said.

"Anyway," said Luna. "Phase Two commences..." and she looked up at the great clock on the wall, "...now."

She stood, took a few steps, and found herself in front of Ron and Hermione's table.

"Hi there," said Luna, smiling, and Hermione looked at her, clearly suspicious.

"Hello," said Hermione cautiously.

"Ronald, how about you go ahead and get your food?" asked Luna. "I never did get to speak to Hermione in private yesterday, you remember?"

"Oh... oh, yeah," said Ron, remembering. "I'm starved, anyway. I'll be back in a minute."

And he sidled out of the booth and made for the buffet.

"So what's this about?" said Hermione, not sounding particularly friendly.

"I... I wanted to say I'm sorry," said Luna. Hermione blinked, and was about to ask "What?" but Luna spoke once again before she had a chance. "I haven't been the nicest person to you since you've returned... or, well, ever, I suppose."

Hermione did not argue.

"And, well... this is supposed to be the happiest weekend of your life, isn't it? Your own wedding...? And... well, I wanted to help with that. So maybe we could put everything else behind us, do you think? Start fresh?"

Hermione didn't no what to say.

"Um, yeah," she said. "Sure. I'd like that."

Luna smiled.

"Good. I mean, I know that Luna Lovegood and Hermione Granger never really got along so great, but... but perhaps things will be different between Luna and Hermione Weasley." Hermione smiled, still taken aback.

Luna wanted to vomit, but held it in, just slightly. Instead, she grinned:

"Now let's get some breakfast, hmm?"

"OK," said Hermione, and the two of them stood up.

From the table beside them, Severus stood up as well.

"Oh, hello Professor," said Hermione. "How are... things?"

"Wonderful," said Snape, his tone as clipped as Hermione's wings as he said it.

"That was quite the performance," whispered Snape into Luna's ear.

"I know, wasn't it?" said Luna, smiling.

"Wasn't what?" said Hermione.

"Oh, nothing," said Luna. Then she grinned, and added: "Ol' buddy, ol' pal."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, hesitated, and decided not to say anything. But then she did anyway:

"Oh no," she said. "The omelet man isn't here today..."

"Darn it," said Luna. "I suppose you'll have to take the buffet this time... oh, poor Sevvie-wevvie, you usually get the omelets too, don't you?"

Snape blinked. Hermione blinked. Luna had no such urge, as was her norm.

"What did I tell you about calling me that?" said Severus harshly. Then, with a glance at Hermione, he added: "...in... _public_."

Luna nearly giggled, but held it in.

They began to make their way along the buffet line, and Luna helped herself to some bacon, some whipped cream, and she was about to take some scrambled eggs when she realized that that might not have been the best idea. She sniffed them rather conspicuously, wondering if they were yesterday's leftovers.

Then, she turned to Hermione, whose plate was still empty.

"Well, aren't you going to get _something_?" said Luna.

Hermione looked with distaste at the platter of God-only-knew-what that sat before her on the table.

"No, I don't think so, actually. I prefer my food to be a bit... more fresh..."

"Oh, no problem then," said Luna. "The bacon's wonderfully fresh, and so's the whipped cream. Here, have mine, I'll go around again."

She shoved the plate into Hermione's hands, and departed the line for the back.

Hermione stood dumbfounded, staring at the plate.

"That is the most disgusting thing I have ever seen," she said.

"I've seen more disgusting," said Severus. "Only slightly, but I have seen it."

"I don't know what to do--she gave it to me, it would be rude not to accept it--"

"Perhaps you could move the line along, for starters," he said, an edge to his voice once again.

"Oh, oh, sorry," said Hermione. She departed for her table, unsure of what to do. She sat down, and stared at the bacon-and-whipped-cream-filled plate once again. She angled her head to the side, thinking that perhaps it would be more appetizing that way.

While her head was craned awkwardly like this, Ron sat down opposite her with a plate stacked high of the greasiest, least fresh breakfast food mountain that Hermione had ever seen.

"How can you eat that?" she demanded. "You'll clog your arteries in two shakes."

"Well, that's all right then, because I don't plan on shaking my arteries," said Ron, spearing a large sausage on his fork and taking a bite.

"We're going to be having nutritious, balanced breakfasts after we're married, you know that, Ron? No more of this nonsense..."

"Ha," said Ron through a mouthful.

"I'm serious," said Hermione.

"Oh, I'll bet you are. But one, I'm not eating any nutritious garbage every morning, and two, I find it awfully funny you're complaining about my food when you've got a plate of bacon and whipped cream in front of you. Now who's being hypocritical?"

"When was anybody being hypocritical?"

Ron blinked, which seemed a very popular action this morning.

"I dunno," said Ron. "It seems like someone's always being hypocritical, so I just said it figuring I had a good chance of making a point. Guess not." He took another large bite.

At that moment, Snape and Luna both returned from the buffet, and without saying a word or asking permission, Luna had sat down right next to Hermione once again.

"So how's your breakfast, dearest bride-to-be?"

"Um," said Hermione. "I haven't actually tried it yet."

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

"An ambulance ready and waiting."

"Pfft, nonsense," said Luna. She took a slice of bacon and scooped up a dollop of the whipped cream, and held it up on front of Hermione's mouth.

"Choo choo," she said, smiling. "Come on, you've got a big night tonight, you need your nutritious breakfast..."

Ron snorted, and then asked, "Big night tonight?"

"Well, of course," said Luna. "Tonight's Hermione's hen party, isn't it?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, we decided we weren't going to bother with those blasted parties," she said.

Severus smirked. "How big of you, Weasley. Giving up your stag party to please your new wife. Very thoughtful."

"Wasn't my idea, exactly," murmured Ron.

"What?" said Hermione. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ron blinked. "Well, it wasn't--"

"It was a mutual decision--"

"Well, if mutual is an agreement between your head and your mouth, then yeah, it was mutual--"

Hermione's eyes widened. "_Fine_," she said. "You go ahead and have your stag party, Ron, have the time of your life. I know I'll be having the time of mine."

And, most climactically, she bit down upon the whipped-cream-covered slice of bacon that had been dangling in front of her face throughout the entire length of this exchange, and chewed it most fervently.

"Come on, Luna," she said, standing. "We've got a hen party to plan." They sidled out of the booth, leaving a dumbfounded Ron and an amused Snape in their wake.

Then Hermione doubled back, picked up Ron's napkin, and spit the bacon into it. "That was absolutely disgusting," she said, and stormed away once again.

Luna couldn't help but grin as she and Hermione left the Hotel Corridor Restaurant and Lounge. This was not at all how she had intended Phase Two to happen--she had merely planned on enjoying Hermione's obvious discomfort with the bacon situation. This, however, was something far greater than that.

This was a miracle.

_TBC... please review._


	6. The Night Before

Disbelieving in Trees  
_Potter47_

_**Chapter Six  
The Night Before**_

Hermione and Luna emerged into the lobby of the Hotel Corridor just as a very pregnant redhead emerged from the front entrance, with a suitcase-laden Harry Potter struggling to manage the revolving door in her wake.

"Ginny!" exclaimed Hermione, dashing off towards her. Luna followed, more slowly.

"How are you feeling?" continued Hermione, looking rather unsubtly at Ginny's tummy. "Have you been--"

"I'm fine, Hermione," said Ginny, laughing slightly. Harry had finally caught up with her, out of breath, and placed the suitcases on the floor. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ginny spoke first:

"Could you get our room keys from the front desk, dear? We really should get unpacked..."

Harry blinked, took a deep breath, nodded, and picked up the suitcases once again, setting off towards the front desk. Ginny smiled.

She whispered to Hermione, grinning, and still watching Harry as he departed: "I finally understand why Mum had so many of us--he's like a little pet nowadays. Does whatever I ask. Sure, I'll probably change my mind in a couple weeks"--she patted her tummy--"but until then, it's just excellent."

She shook her head slightly, and turned back to Hermione. "But what am I doing talking about me? How are _you_, my soon-to-be-sister-in-law...?"

Hermione took a breath. "Well, Ron and I just had another row--"

"--of course," interjected Ginny.

"--but Luna and I were just about to plan tonight's hen party," added Hermione, grinning almost fiendishly.

Ginny blinked, glancing at Luna.

"You and Luna?" she asked, surprised. Luna nodded significantly behind Hermione's back, and something seemed to click in Ginny's mind.

"Oh no you're not," she continued. "You, Hermione Granger, are going to keep yourself busy for the next couple hours, while Luna and _I _plan your hen party. What sense is there if you already know what's happening?"

Hermione hesitated, and then said: "Well, I suppose you're right..."

"Of course I am," said Ginny. "Mother's intuition and all that rubbish."

Harry returned with the suitcases, two hotel room keys held firmly in his mouth, as though he were sticking a thin, card-shaped tongue out at them.

"Thank you, Harry," said Ginny, taking one of the keys from his mouth, like a card from a bank machine. Harry nodded a "You're welcome."

"Now, Hermione, you go up in your room and take a nap or something--keep yourself occupied. Where's Ron, by the way?"

"In the Restaurant and Lounge," said Hermione.

"The Restaurant portion, actually," added Luna.

"All right then," said Ginny. "Harry, you go find Ron in the Restaurant and help him plan his Stag party." Harry blinked, and tilted his head to the side. He gestured with the suitcases. "Oh, yes, you can drop those off in the room if you like, first. But then go find Ron, all right?"

Harry nodded, heading off for the lifts, with the remaining key still dangling from his lips. A few people glanced at him perplexedly.

"Now... Hermione, you go on now, and Luna? Come with me. We've got work to do."

——

"Now... what on earth is going on with you and Hermione?" questioned Ginny, sitting upon Luna's bed and bouncing slightly on the mattress. "You're not going to tell me you suddenly had a change of heart about her and Ron?"

"Of course not," said Luna frankly. "You know exactly what I'm doing, don't you?"

"I believe so," said Ginny. She screwed up her mouth shrewdly. "I'm not sure that I like it, though."

Luna's eyes widened. "But Ginny, we always agreed that Ronald and I were meant for each other, didn't we?"

"Yes, we did, but that was when we were twelve--"

"So? That sort of thing doesn't exactly change--"

"Luna..." Ginny shook her head, putting her hand on her forehead exasperatedly. "You can't just _break up _Ron and Hermione. They're getting _married _tomorrow. This isn't a fairy tale, this is their _lives_."

"Exactly," said Luna. "Which is why I'm trying to stop them making the biggest _mistake_ of their lives."

"What do you mean?"

"They're not right for each other, Ginny, not at all. Have you seen them? Fighting with each other every thirty seconds... they hardly seem to _like _each other, let alone love each other..."

Ginny hesitated, but then:

"And you think Ron loves _you_ more? And Hermione loves _Snape?_"

"Well, the latter is obvious. The former is going to take a bit of development, but yes, I do believe it is an eventual possibility."

Ginny laughed, shaking her head. "You're absolutely out of your tree, Luna."

"I don't believe in trees," said Luna. "The Ministry replaced them all with manufactured look-alikes that spy on us and report on our activity."

"Whatever you say, Luna."

——

"And you _know_," said Hermione blearily, "that it really _does_ make a _very_ big difference... the thickness of the, the cauldron. Yup." She nodded several times, took another gulp of her Firewhisky, and winced.

"Whatever you say, Hermione," said Ginny, who of course was not drinking. They had managed to reserve a section of the Three Broomsticks for the hen party, and had gotten away from the Hotel Corridor, with the rest of the female wedding guests, before Harry knew that Ginny would be traveling again.

"Dear me," said Professor McGonagall, looking more than a bit disheveled, and placing her glass on the table. "I really should probably be heading back to the hotel..."

"Nonsense," said Luna, picking up McGonagall's glass and shoving it back into her hand. "Not when the fun's about to begin."

McGonagall quirked an eyebrow, and would have managed to appear quite shrewd, if she had not taken that very opportunity to let out a rather large burp.

"Excuse me," she said, very, very quietly.

Ginny grinned.

"What'sthefun?" slurred Hermione. She hesitated, and then spoke more clearly: "I think we should have a nice discussion about... about... potions. Potions, potions, potions! Such a lovely subject, yes? The... softly shimmering..." She trailed off into another gulp of Firewhisky, and Luna gave Ginny a pointed look, which clearly meant "_See_?" Ginny shrugged.

"That's a marvelous idea, Hermione," said Luna, "but I was thinking something that might be a bit more... exciting, for the rest of us."

"Oh," said Hermione. "Like what?"

"Well, a little game of Truth or Dare, of course," said Ginny, grinning mischievously.

Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown giggled into their drinks.

"Well, all right, I suppose," said Hermione, a little disappointedly.

"Splendid," said Luna. "Now, Hermione, as it's your night, you ask first. And then you'll be the last one to answer."

Hermione nodded, and surveyed the group, her head wobbling a bit as she did it. Her gaze fell on McGonagall.

"Minerva," said Hermione, "truth or dare?"

McGonagall looked more than a little dismayed to have been chosen, but thought carefully for a moment before answering quietly: "Dare."

The other girls cheered, applauding her Gryffindor bravery.

"Hmm..." began Hermione, taking another gulp of her drink and looking up at the ceiling, deep in thought. "I dare you... to turn Madam Rosmerta into a treacle tart."

McGonagall gasped, which let out another burp, and the other girls laughed. She asked: "I suppose I'm not allowed to turn down the--?"

"Nope," said Ginny, grinning. "It's a binding magical contract."

"I'm sure it is," said McGonagall dryly. She turned towards the bar, swore very quietly to herself, and then pointed her wand at Rosmerta, who promptly became a treacle tart, which then fell to the floor and out of sight, leaving several very confused patrons standing at the bar.

Then McGonagall waved her wand again, and Rosmerta was back to herself again, looking even more confuzzled than everybody else.

"Could've sworn..." she murmured, shaking her head.

McGonagall turned back to the others, blushing furiously, which was a very strange sight upon her face. She gulped down the rest of her drink, and slammed it on the table.

"Never again," she said, and then looked at the other girls. "Miss Patil? Truth or dare?"

——

Back at the Hotel Corridor, in the Lounge of the Restaurant and Lounge, Ron Weasley sat in a similarly bemused, semi-conscious state to that of Hermione. He was surrounded by a group of male wedding guests, most notably Snape, Harry, and a certain silver-haired headmaster who, alone among the otherwise bored and drunken guests, seemed to be having the time of his life.

"If only the ladies were here, I do believe we could have a lovely game of... what do the Muggles call it? 'Spin the Bottle'...?"

"Er, yeah, Professor," said Harry, rather awkwardly. "But--"

"Oh, let's play something, shall we?" continued Dumbledore. "I seem to sense that I alone am truly enjoying myself, and we can't have that, can we, Mr. Weasley?"

He nudged Ron in the arm, who jumped slightly.

"Wha...?" he murmured.

"I believe Weasley has had his fill of enjoyment," said Snape. "Or rather, his fill of alcoholic beverages..."

"Nah, nah, I'll play something..." said Ron, nodding wearily.

"Splendid!" said Dumbledore. "How about..."

But before Dumbledore could finish his suggestion, two very red-haired blurs appeared in Ron's vision. He blinked several times for his vision to clear.

"What's this, Ronniekins?" said Fred, the first of the blurs.

"A stag party, and you didn't even invite _us_?"

"Your favourite-est brothers in the whole wide world...?"

"Ha," said Ron, but the next moment, the twins were addressing the party at large.

"Tonight," announced George in a booming voice, "is our brother Ron's very last night of freedom!"

"From now on, he's going to have to be _responsible, _isn't he, George?"

"Why, yes he is, Fred. And I don't believe the Ron _I _know is very responsible at all."

"You know, I think we should put our dear brother here through a few... tests, don't you? To make sure he's ready for such a large amount of responsibility?"

"What a great idea, Fred."

"Thank you, George."

They grinned.

——

Ginny blushed, returned to her seat, and turned determinedly to Luna.

"Luna..." she said, "truth or dare?"

Luna blinked. It was her turn already?

Now, this was a very important decision. Truth...? Or dare? It would require a great deal of deliberation. "Truth," for instance, contained the word "hurt" within its letters, which was never a very good sign, while "dare" could be rearranged to spell "read," which reminded her very much of Hermione. Neither option seemed particularly appealing... but then Luna noticed that "Truth" also happened to have both an "r" and an "h," and those did not go together very well at all.

"Dare," said Luna, finally.

"OK," said Ginny. She thought for a very long minute, and then said: "I dare you to jump on the table and sing whatever song comes to mind at the top of your lungs."

Luna laughed--she had been worried Ginny would dare her to do something embarrassing.

She stood upon the table, composed herself, and burst into a rousing chorus of "Weasley is Our King"--the rest of the bar turned around to look, but she didn't mind all that much, and when she had finished, she sat back down calmly. The other girls were laughing; even Hermione, although she was eying Luna rather oddly.

Then, when the laughing died down, Luna asked:

"Hermione... truth or dare?"

"Truth," said Hermione at once, smiling slightly.

Luna thought for a minute, as Ginny had done, and then shook her head, as though throwing caution to the wind, which caught it deftly in its breeze.

"Have you ever had a crush on a teacher?"

Hermione's smile was gone in a flash. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out at first. She closed it, and put a hand on her throat, which was burning again, although this time it didn't seem to have to do with the Firewhisky.

Finally, she mustered enough of a voice to say, very quietly:

"Maybe."

The other girls burst into an uproar at this non-answer, especially Lavender and Parvati.

"Come on, Hermione," said Parvati. "It's not like it's really a secret or anything..."

Hermione blinked furiously. "What are you talking about?" she said.

"Well, honestly," said Lavender, "it was kind of obvious..."

Hermione looked severely confuzzled. "How could it have been obvious to you when I..." she trailed off, shaking her head to clear it, and tried again: "I mean, I didn't even know... I still--don't... know..."

Now it was Lavender and Parvati's turn to be confuzzled.

"_You _didn't know about your crush on Lockhart?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "...oh."

"Why, what were you talking about?"

"Nothing," said Hermione, looking at Luna fiercely, and looking rather betrayed. "Anyway, yes, I have had a crush on a teacher, I was madly in love with Gilderoy Lockhart, second year."

"Oh dear, how could you?" said McGonagall, sounding like she had a bad taste in her mouth.

Hermione ignored her, for the first time in her life. She had not looked away from Luna.

"Truth or dare, Luna?" she said, an odd tone in her voice.

Luna blinked. "I thought we were only going around once...?"

"Truth or dare, Luna," said Hermione again, and it was hardly even a question, her voice was so intense.

Luna swallowed, unsure. "Erm... dare," said Luna again.

"I dare you to leave me... and Ron... _alone_," said Hermione, drawing her wand. She stood, and wobbled slightly on her feet.

Luna stood as well, and backed away slightly, drawing her own wand. Ginny was trying to calm Hermione down, but Hermione was pushing her away.

"Oh dear," said McGonagall, taking a sip of her second drink and looking between the two girls.

"I'm sorry," said Luna, shaking her head. "I can't do that."

Hermione took a deep breath. Luna had never seen her like this--she seemed to be holding her wand for dear life, gripping it tighter and tighter until silver sparks were spouting from the end of it. Luna was starting to get a bit scared.

"Hermione, stop it..." cautioned Ginny. "You're drunk..."

"I don't care," said Hermione. "Get out, Luna, before I--"

"What?" demanded Luna. "Before you what? Before you curse me? Hex me into next week? Really, Hermione, do you think I care about that? You've already done so much worse." She tightened her grip on her own wand.

"And what have I done, Luna? I've gotten myself engaged to Ron?"

"His name," said Luna, narrowing her eyes, "is _Ronald. _And yes. You've 'gotten yourself engaged' to him, that's exactly my point." A beat, and then: "Why didn't you say you'd 'fallen in love' with him, Hermione?"

Hermione blinked. "What on earth does that matter? I said what I said--"

"Yes, but I find it rather interesting--"

"Fine, I've fallen in love with him--"

"No you haven't," said Luna. "And he hasn't with you. You're getting married because it makes sense, not because you've fallen in love. Because you think it's the right thing to do."

"You're saying I don't love Ron?"

"No," said Luna, "I'm saying you're not in love with him, and you never were. I'm sure you love him just fine, you care about him--but there's a difference."

"And you are? You're in love with him?"

Luna nodded. "I have been since I was three."

Hermione laughed, a terrible, terrible laugh.

"Grow up, Luna. You're _not_ _three_ anymore--this is real, you know, this is your life, these are our real lives. This isn't a fairy tale, and Ron isn't the handsome prince. Sometimes you just have to grow up and realize some things _aren't real_."

"I know that, Hermione," said Luna. "Trees, for instance."

And Hermione had apparently had enough--she fired a spell at Luna, who deflected it, and began to back away. Part of her wanted nothing more than to stay and duel with Hermione to the death, but some slightly more reasonable part of her knew that Hermione would win.

"Just go away, Luna," said Hermione, ceasing firing spells for a moment; it looked as though she were on the verge of tears. "Just go away, and leave us alone."

And then Luna was gone, out the front of the bar, leaving a fuming Hermione and the rest of the sufficiently clucked hen party in her wake.

——

Luna sat in the car park of the Hotel Corridor, leaning with her back against one of the light posts, just as she had a few days prior. She was perfectly content to merely stay by herself, in peace, thinking about things, but it seemed someone else had other plans.

"Funny to see you here..." said Snape, emerging from the shadows of the dark car park, into the light of the post. He added, somewhat uncertainly: "...Luna."

Luna looked up, and smiled slightly. "Hello, Severus," she said. "I thought you'd still be at the stag party."

Snape shrugged. "I grew tired of it rather quickly," he said. "The Weasley twins turned up, and have been busy humiliating their brother... which would have been amusing, if their style weren't so... _grating_." He paused, and then said: "Why are _you _not still at the hen party?"

Luna shrugged. "Hermione sort of started a duel with me in the middle of the Three Broomsticks, and now I'm pretty much banned from the wedding tomorrow."

Snape blinked.

"...oh," he said. "Then we're..."

"...not giving up, no," said Luna. "I told you before, I'm not going to give up on this."

Snape sighed rather heavily.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" he asked.

"Not at all."

Snape did so, sitting with his back to Luna, leaning on the opposite side of the lamp post.

"You know," said Luna thoughtfully, "if we were in a film, or a book, the logical ending to all of this would be for you and I to fall for each other, don't you think? Do you know what I mean? As though all of this were some sort of childish distraction, and eventually we'd mature and realize it was never going to happen, and in the end we'd fall into each other's arms, instead of those we thought we would fall into."

Snape was silent for a moment, and then he said, almost shamefully: "...but I can hardly stand you."

Luna smiled. "I know. That's why we're not in a movie, or a book--this isn't a romantic comedy, this is the real world, real life, and things don't work out like that, all tied up in a nice bow. No, this... this is much more difficult, this reality stuff. Real people don't like to admit when they've been wrong."

Luna thought of Hermione, in the bar, that fierce look in her eye--Hermione would rather believe anything than admit she'd been wrong, wouldn't she? Luna was glad she was not like that.

Snape jerked Luna out of her reverie:

"We're insane, Luna, you do realize that?"

"Yes."

"It's _impossible_, all of this. We're just two incompetent idiots pining away at something that will never be, that could never be."

"Probably," said Luna.

Snape turned around to face Luna rather suddenly, almost desperately.

"Then what keeps you going, Lovegood? How do you still have hope?"

Luna shrugged.

"I don't really know. I just... do."

TBC


	7. The Big Day

Disbelieving in Trees  
_Potter47_

_**Chapter Seven  
The Big Day**_

Luna walked down the hotel corridor of the Hotel Corridor, and then walked back up it the other way. She was pacing, pacing, pacing so much that if she were wearing sandpaper on her socks, she would have been in the basement by now. Of course, there was no very good reason why she _would _have been wearing sandpaper on her socks, as that would be a very silly thing to do, indeed.

She needed a new plan, and she needed it quickly. Today was the day--the very last day she had, to prevent this awful monstrosity from becoming a reality. Luna shivered at the thought--what a sad place _reality_ would be, then, if it did.

Luna was alone, now, unfortunately enough--she had been banned from the wedding ceremony, after yesterday's incident, and so she did not even have Severus, who was busy downstairs, helping with the preparations. The wedding would begin at six o'clock, on the nose, down by the gazebo--it was four, now.

Two hours.

_Oh dear_, thought Luna.

Walking, walking, back and forth, forth and back, and Luna was starting to get a headache, from all the thinking of plans she was failing to do. Her heart was beating, beating, beating faster than she could ever remember it beating, beating with each footstep she took on the corridor's carpet, that carpet which was somehow hard and soft at the same; _hoft_, her father would say.

She was getting slightly dizzy. More than slightly, now--the corridor was beginning to turn, turn, turn, and Luna had to sit down or she would have fallen over. And so she did--she sat, with her back against the wall, with only discarded breakfast trays to keep her company, and once the maid came round, even _they_ would be gone...

Luna rubbed her eyes, and as much as she knew that she needed to stay focused, and think of a plan, her mind began to wander from her, to slip away from her slowly and stealthily, and she began to daydream.

She was standing in the car park of the hotel, standing beneath the lamp post, the light shining down like some sort of personal sun, just for her. But then it wasn't just for her at all, because _he _was there, Ronald was there, standing with her, and holding her hand.

"It's OK," he was saying. "Everything's going to be OK."

And he smiled, and she smiled because of course she had to smile if he was smiling at _her_, like that--how on earth could she not?

"I love you," she said, the words flowing so very naturally from her lips. He tightened his grip upon her hand, and nodded, and smiled some more, and said, "I know. I love you too," and Luna melted.

The melted Luna began to ooze her way down the car park, drawing farther and farther away from Ronald with each passing moment. Finally, she reached a drain, and seeped (sopped?) her way through its grate, falling, falling, falling--

...and landing, in a large cauldron-full of bubbling liquid, in a dungeon beneath the pavement. Severus and Hermione were stirring her together, seemingly unaware that she had become an added ingredient. She hoped she did not mess up their potion--they seemed so perfectly wonderful, working together on it. Hermione was smiling like Luna had never seen her smile before, and Severus was not frowning.

She watched them, for a few minutes, but then the oddest sensation passed throughout her goo, and she had the strangest feeling that she was boiling. Sure enough, in another minute, she felt herself drifting heavenward, back through the grate from which she had entered the dungeon, and back into the car park of the Hotel Corridor.

Luna rather enjoyed not having a body, for once--there was nothing to get in the way, anymore, she could finally just be herself. _And,_ if she really concentrated, she found she could direct her vapor in whichever direction she wanted to go, which was quite nifty.

She concentrated, and began drifting towards the entrance to the hotel.

Once in the lobby, she saw Ginny standing behind the front desk, holding a microphone. She was making an announcement, loud and clear, that could be heard throughout the hotel:

"_I'm delighted to inform all of you,_" said Ginny, "_that the Granger-Weasley wedding that was to be held today, at six o'clock, on the nose, down by the gazebo, has been cancelled at the last minute." _She paused, shuffling a few papers in front of her, and then continued: "_Now, you are all cordially invited to attend the _Lovegood_-Weasley wedding, now scheduled to take place at the gazebo instead, which promises to be a much more enjoyable affair..."_

Luna almost smiled, but then she remembered that she was a mass of floating particles, so she didn't.

She decided to drift towards the corridor where she had been pacing, and to her surprise, she saw that Ronald was there as well, crouched over someone who was slumped on the floor...

_Oh!_ thought Luna, quite surprised to see that the slumped-over person was herself.

"Luna!" said Ronald, poking her shoulder. "Luna, are you OK...?"

The non-melted Luna opened her eyes with a start--she blinked a few times before she had quite realized that Ronald was really standing over her, poking her shoulder.

"Hello," she said, quirking her head to the side. "What are you doing here, Ronald?"

"Thank God, you're OK..." said Ronald, who then plopped himself down on the floor beside her and took a few deep breaths. "I just... I saw you on the floor like that, and I nearly had a heart attack..."

"Yes, I'm all right, I suppose," said Luna, nodding.

They were silent for a few minutes--Luna noticed that Ronald was all dressed up, which did not suit him at all. The only thing that seemed to be missing was his tie.

Ronald followed her gaze, and then said "Oh, yeah!" quite suddenly, pulling a length of cloth from his pocket--Luna recognized it as his bowtie. "I... that's why I was coming to find you, I wanted to ask if you'd..."

He gestured rather emptily with the tie.

"...if I'd tie your bowtie?" finished Luna, and Ronald nodded limply.

"Yeah," he said.

"Of course I will," said Luna, and her voice shook slightly as she said it. She grabbed the tie from him, and made as though to stand up, but wobbled severely as she did so--she would have fallen over again, if Ronald hadn't caught her about the waist, nearly sending her back to the drain.

"You're sure you're OK?" asked Ronald, once she'd righted herself.

Luna didn't answer, and merely grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the door of room number twenty-one. She pulled the key-card-thingy from her pocket, and slid it into the door, and then pulled it back out again.

"...you reckon we still need the mirror?" asked Ronald.

"Yes," said Luna, nodding, as she opened the door and led him to the bathroom. "This is your last chance to learn, after all--I doubt Hermione will be eager to teach you."

There was no anger in her voice as she said it--it was just a fact, and Ron didn't respond. Luna began to fuss about his neck with the tie.

"Watch closely," she said. "First, you..."

He did watch closely--his gaze was focused intently on their reflection in the mirror, the entire time Luna was fastening his tie.

"...there," said Luna, finally. "All finished."

She pulled back from his neck, expecting him to say something--"Thanks, Luna," perhaps, or "Oh, OK." But he was silent--he just kept looking into the mirror as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world. But then, no--he did not look fascinated. He looked quite emotionless, actually.

She watched his reflection, too, wondering what was wrong--she remained silent, however. She knew he would speak when he was ready--there was no sense to nag him, of course.

Finally, he did speak:

"Damn," he said.

"What?" said Luna.

"Damn," he repeated. Luna smiled slightly.

"I heard you," she said, patiently. "I was just wondering what you were damn_ing_."

"Oh," said Ron. "I... I was just looking at us. In the mirror."

Luna nodded--she'd already known this much.

He continued, as she'd known he would: "...when the hell did we get so old?"

"I don't know," said Luna. "I think it was a sort of gradual process, but yes, it does seem to have snuck up on us, now, doesn't it?"

Ron nodded. He still hadn't looked away from the reflection. Then:

"When I was a kid," he said, "in first year, at Hogwarts, there was this mirror. It showed you what you wanted most, you know, and when I looked into it, I saw me being head boy, and Quidditch captain, and I was... I was old. I remember thinking how old I looked, and how weird that seemed, you know? But that was nothing compared to... to this..."

He reached up and rubbed his cheek, stretching his skin this way and that, and then he let it go. It returned to just the way it had been before.

They were silent for another long moment, and then he said, a bit louder than Luna'd expected:

"I'm getting married, Luna."

Luna said nothing.

"I'm getting _married..._ how ludicrous is that? I mean, when I looked into that mirror, you know, I never saw myself getting _married_, I never really _thought _about getting _married_, I never _wanted _to get married all that particularly. But... here I am."

Luna said nothing.

He laughed, suddenly, a strange laugh that didn't seem to have very much humor in it.

"Remember when we were kids, Luna? Me, and you, and Ginny, you guys used to make me play house and Ginny was the kid and you were the mum and I was the dad?"

Luna nodded--of course she remembered that.

"I _hated _that," said Ron. "It was so embarrassing, you know? I didn't want to get married, I told myself I'd never get married, I'd grow up and be a Quidditch player and live by myself my whole life. But that didn't happen, did it?"

Luna said nothing.

"I mean, what am I? I'm not _really _old, yet. Do you ever... d'you ever feel trapped, Luna? Like you're stuck in something and you can't think of a way out?"

Luna nodded.

"Yeah... me too," said Ron, which was perfectly obvious, as he'd been the one to mention it. "I don't even know what I feel trapped by..."

_I do_, thought Luna.

"I just... I feel like life's happening _to_ me, you know, it's just happening and I'm watching it happen and it's all going like everybody's always told me it should go. But shouldn't I be the one that decides that?"

And now, Luna said something.

"Of course you should, Ronald." He looked up in surprise, like he'd almost forgotten she was there, and finally, he was looking at her, and not at the mirror. "And... would you let me say something, and promise me you won't get angry at me? That you'll just hear me out and not walk out?"

"Yeah," said Ron, looking somewhat confused. "Of course."

"That's just what I was telling you the other day, Ronald, when I said that Hermione was too old for you."

Ron tensed, but didn't get angry.

"I heard what happened last night," he said, instead. "At the... the hen party..." He trailed off, for a minute. "I'm sorry she went crazy on you. You can come, if you want. I mean... you don't have to be banned. I reckon she's not about to let you be a bridesmaid anymore, but... anyway..."

"Thank you," said Luna, almost taken aback by this.

Ron nodded, glancing back at the mirror for a moment. "I'd better be going, I guess," he said. "Thank you... for the tie, I mean."

Luna smiled. "You're welcome, Ronald."

"I'll see you, then. Six o'clock--"

"...by the gazebo," finished Luna. He started to walk towards the door, but she grabbed his hand--he looked round, caught off guard, and she squeezed his fingers.

"Good luck," she said, and he smiled slightly, too.

——

The gazebo was covered in flowers, when Luna arrived, covered in simply loads of flowers that seemed to dance in the late afternoon sun. It was a beautiful place for a wedding, and Luna remembered her daydream with a pang. This could have been _her _wedding... if only she hadn't woken up.

There were dozens of white wooden folding chairs lined up in front of the gazebo steps, set up with an aisle running down the middle. Luna took a seat near the back, so as to be a bit inconspicuous--she already looked peculiar enough, as she was dressed as a bridesmaid yet sitting by herself.

She sat in silence for a while, watching as the other seats slowly were filled to capacity with onlookers, both wizard and Muggle. Luna wondered idly which of the Muggles were Hermione's parents, before remembering that she didn't really care very much.

There was a deep voice beside her, then, causing her to jump slightly in her chair:

"Is this seat taken?"

Luna looked up to see Severus, gesturing to the chair beside her. She shook her head, and he sat down.

"Wonderful," he said, scanning the crowd, rather than looking at her. "If I had been forced to endure this whole thing sitting beside Albus, I may have had to send him off of a tower when we returned to Hogwarts."

They sat in what could almost be called a companionable silence for awhile, but then, it seemed, Severus could not take it anymore.

"So?" he asked. "What have you planned?"

Luna shook her head. "Nothing," she said.

His eyes widened, and Luna liked to think he nearly fell off of his chair, because the thought of Severus Snape falling off of a dainty-looking white folding chair into the grass below was a rather cheerful one. He would have looked so silly.

"Nothing at all?" hissed Snape, keeping his voice deliberately low. "You haven't managed to come up with a single idea...?"

"Nope," said Luna.

"What about all you said about _never giving up_, and all of that rubbish?"

Luna looked slightly affronted. "I did not say I had _given up_, I merely said I didn't have a _plan_."

Severus blinked, and stared at her for a long minute. Then, his mouth quirked up in a sort of smirk.

"I see," he said. "Improvisation, then."

Luna nodded. "And if nothing strikes me by the time they get to '_speak now or forever hold your peace_,' I believe I'll just start a ruckus of some sort, or maybe just run up there and start snogging Ronald's face off."

"I believe that would be considered starting a ruckus," said Severus.

Luna shrugged, and they fell silent, for the last of the stragglers were filing into the last of the empty seats, and a minister of some sort had just appeared on the steps of the gazebo.

"_I believe he stole your robes_," whispered Luna to Severus. "_Look at the collar._"

"_Very funny,_" murmured Severus, hardly laughing.

Ron was standing, bow-tied and awkward-looking, at the foot of the steps, with Harry standing beside him. Ginny was on the other side of the steps, looking very pregnant yet very pretty in her matron-of-honour dress.

_Dum-dum-de-dum... dum-dum-de-dum..._

The entire crowd turned around in their chairs to see Hermione, holding a bouquet and wearing a long wedding dress, begin to walk down the aisle on the arm of a Muggle whom Luna assumed was her father. For a split second, Luna wished that she had taken an aisle seat, so that she could reach her leg out and trip her, or step on the long trailing part of her dress, but childish the urge passed, however unwilling it was to go.

When Hermione had reached the foot of the steps, the minister took a deep breath, and so did Luna. This was it...

The minister welcomed the crowd, and began talking and talking and talking about everything marriage involved, and Luna was having a hard time paying attention. She was much more interested in the look of utter dread that Ron was trying to hide from his face, and wondering why he was trying to hide it.

Then, the minister seemed to be finished with what he was saying, and he gestured for Ronald to take Hermione's hand. He did so, after hurriedly wiping it off on his clothes, and the minister smiled.

"Do you, Ronald Bilius Weasley, take Hermione Jane Granger, to be your--"

"_OH!_"

Luna blinked, and sat up in her chair, alert. The minister seemed to be blinking very rapidly as well, and he was looking fervently throughout the crowd to see who had been so rude as to interrupt him. The crowd, however, was too busy looking at Ginny to pay him any mind, for she had just collapsed upon the floor, her legs having given out beneath her.

_Oh, dear_...

Harry was at her side in a flash, nearly tripping on Hermione's gown in his effort.

"Are you OK--?" he began.

"Of course I'm not bloody OK, idiot!" shouted Ginny from the grass, sending the minister's eyebrows flying. "My bloody water just broke...!"

_TBC_


	8. Epilogue

Disbelieving in Trees  
_Potter47_

_**Epilogue  
The Morning After**_

They all looked most peculiar, sitting in the corridor in the maternity ward of St. Mungo's. In fact, for the first time in her life, Luna felt she was the _least_ peculiar-looking person in the room. Hermione took the title by far, today, for she and her ginormous wedding dress were smushed into the bench, next to Ron, who was still wearing his fancy-schmancy Muggle formal-wear (whatever it was called) that Hermione had insisted upon, because of her family's guests. Harry was also wearing his whatever-it-was, and although he could pull it off better than Ron could, he was pacing back and forth with a maniacal stride which didn't suit him. Snape was next to Luna, on the bench opposite Ron and Hermione, similarly dressed up, and the rest of the Weasleys were on benches stretching further down the hall.

They had been sitting (pacing, in Harry's case) like this for ages, now... waiting. Waiting for the healers to come out with news of Ginny and the baby, waiting for the baby to be born, waiting for anything at all to happen, really, other than some more waiting. Because _that_ had happened more than enough already.

When they'd arrived, the Healers had suggested that everyone except Harry, and Ginny's immediate family, should return home to wait--when they'd learned that _that_ covered all but three of the eleven people waiting, they'd given up and conjured some more benches. And besides, there was no use for Hermione, Snape, or Luna to return to the wedding, now; Hermione couldn't exactly get married without the best man, matron-of-honour, or _groom_, after all.

And so, it had been put off. The so-called-inevitable had been delayed, and Luna was indescribably thankful for that; if she had needed more proof that _something _didn't want Ron and Hermione to get married, that it wasn't _right_, then she would have been more than convinced, now; fate, it seemed, had intervened.

The ages passed in silence, and then, finally, the door opened. Harry was standing inches from the Healer in a split second.

The Healer smiled.

"You've got yourself a baby girl," he said, and Harry looked like he was going to faint.

"Can I--?" he asked, poking his head over the Healer's shoulder, attempting to see into the room.

"Of course," said the Healer, smiling, and he stepped aside to let Harry through.

——

Later, the Healer came back out to get Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and then, a few minutes after that, to fetch Ron, the twins, and (to Luna's surprise) Luna herself.

"Erm... I'm not family," said Luna. "The rest of the Weasleys--"

"They said they wanted you," said the Healer kindly, and Luna did not protest further, but instead followed Ron and Fred and George into the room, where Ginny was laying, smiling, on the sole bed, with Harry kneeling at her side, and a small, shockingly red-haired baby girl in her arms.

"Can't believe you managed a girl first try, Gin," said Fred.

"Mum must be right jealous," said George, smirking at his mother, who was glowing beside her husband, from the wall.

Ginny passed the baby to one of the twins, who made silly faces at her for a few minutes.

"What's her name?" asked Ron, which was a very important question.

Ginny hesitated for a moment, and glanced at Harry, who smiled (or rather, continued to smile, as he had been doing so for ages)

"_Luna_," said Ginny, and Luna looked up.

"Yes?" she asked.

Ginny laughed, and shook her head. She pointed limply at the baby, which had now migrated from the twins' arms to Ron's. She said again:

"_Luna_."

Luna blinked, and peered over Ron's arms at the baby girl.

"Luna? Why on earth--"

"Well, I promised," said Ginny. "When we were kids, I said I'd name my first daughter Luna, don't you remember?"

Luna was speechless. Ron seemed to be as well. He kept on holding little Luna in his arms, but there was something funny in his eyes, something detached about them--there had been since Luna had stood so close to him.

"I was surprised too," said Harry, "but then... then I saw her eyes."

And now big Luna looked at little Luna's eyes, which were positively _globes_. She was staring up at Ron and Luna, unsure whom these strange people were above her.

"She's so beautiful," said Luna, grinning.

She reached out a finger and let little Luna try to grab it (without much success), and Ron gestured for Luna to take Luna, which she did.

"Hello, Luna," she said, adjusting the baby in her arms. "My name's Luna too. I'm your Auntie Luna."

"I'm... I'm gonna go," said Ron, sounding strange. "Bill and Charlie'll want to see her..."

And he made for the door without another word.

——

Back in the corridor, Snape and Hermione were sitting on opposite benches, pointedly ignoring one another, when Ron reemerged.

"Hermione?" he said.

She looked up. "Can I go in?" she asked, but Ron shook his head.

"I just... I wanted to talk to you for a minute. In private," he said, sounding rather emotionless.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "I don't think now is exactly the time, I'd rather enjoy seeing the baby--" and she craned her neck, as though she'd be able to see around him.

"Bill and Charlie're next," said Ron, and he gestured down the hall to attract his brothers' attention. They jumped to their feet, and began charging down the hall.

"Please, Hermione," said Ron.

"Fine," said Hermione. She turned to Snape. "Professor, would you mind excusing us?"

"I believe I was sitting here before Weasley had felt his urgent need for private conversation," said Snape smoothly, "and besides--this corridor is hardly private, even without my own presence."

This was true, and Hermione stood with a _harrumph_, and began to lead Ron down the hallway to the far-off bench Bill and Charlie had just evacuated.

"What _is_ it, Ron?" she asked impatiently, not looking at him but instead looking back down the hall, in case someone were to poke their head out and signal to her to come in.

"Hermione, could you at least look at me?" There was something different about his voice, very strained, very tired-sounding.

She did so, she looked at him, and her expression let up slightly.

"What's wrong, Ron?"

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and then tried again: "I dunno... exactly..." he said. "I just... well, I was in there, and I was holding Luna, and--"

"You w_hat?_" snapped Hermione.

"The baby, Hermione, Gin named the baby Luna. Calm down."

Hermione deflated slightly, looking slightly ashamed of herself.

"Anyway," said Ron, "I was holding her, and Luna--big Luna, grown-up Luna--was standing next to me, and it reminded me of something I was thinking about earlier. Back when I was little, Gin used to make me play house with her and Luna, and I was the husband and Luna was the mum Ginny was the baby, you know, and I absolutely hated it. _Hated _it. And it just... reminded me of that, with the little girl, all looking just like Ginny in my arms, and--"

"Slow down, Ron," said Hermione. "You're rambling."

Ron blinked. "So what, Hermione? You ramble all the time, don't you, can't I have one good ramble?"

Hermione, taken aback, didn't say anything.

"Anyway," continued Ron. "It just made me feel really weird, holding that kid, 'cause I don't feel like I'm old enough to be holding a kid, especially not my _baby sister's _kid, and--"

"What are you _saying_, Ron?" interjected Hermione. "I don't see why you're telling me all this--"

"Because I _don't want to get married, _is that what you want me to say?"

Hermione blinked, now, and her mouth fell open.

"What?" she said, finally, weakly, after trying to speak for a great while.

Ron was on a roll, now, and the words were coming freely: "Yeah, I said it, it's been driving me absolutely crazy and it was almost too late but I couldn't do anything about it because EVERYBODY says how _lucky _I am that I'm marrying _Hermione Granger_, the brightest witch of her age, how it's just _perfect_, how everything's turning out just perfect for me and I must be so bloody happy, you know? But I'm not, Hermione, I'm not bloody happy because I don't want to get married, I don't want to be _old _enough to get married, I'm still just a stupid kid who doesn't have a clue what he wants to do with his life and I'm pretty bloody scared I'm going to end up just being a stupid dad with a stupid job that doesn't do anything because _he _wants to do it, but just 'cause his wife says it's the right thing to do, and _she_ can't be wrong, 'cause she's brilliant and he's stupid and bloody hell, are you crying?"

Ron stopped, mouth wide, staring at Hermione, who was sobbing rather violently.

"Well you could've just _said so!_" shouted Hermione through her tears, standing quick as a flash and storming off down the corridor back towards where Snape was sitting. Ron thought she was bound to trip on her wedding dress, but he didn't say anything.

Instead, he just watched her go, dumbstruck, without a clue of what on earth he was supposed to do.

Just a few more words came to his lips, without his even thinking them:

"I couldn't've just said so" he said quietly to himself. "That was the problem."

And he didn't move an inch from where he sat.

——

Luna stood, for the final time, against the lamp post in the car park of the Hotel Corridor. She would be leaving in a few hours, her sootcase already backed for the return to England. She could barely believe she had been awake for the last few hours--everything seemed almost as it had in her daydream, except she had maintained her physical body throughout.

There had been a strange sort of chaos when everyone except Harry and Ginny returned to the hotel in the morning, as the guests were slowly informed that the wedding was not going to be rescheduled. The reactions were quite mixed--some had been quite vocally upset about this, having spent days away from work for nothing at all, while others were quite cheerful about it for just the same reason.

Luna, of course, felt as though she was floating. At one point, in fact, she _had _been floating, and she had had to quickly set herself down before any of the Muggle's took note.

But now, she was merely waiting--waiting for the future to unfold, and to see where it took her. Waiting for the inevitable time when she would have to say goodbye to this strange, French hotel for the last time... she was particularly going to miss this lamp post. She would never forget it.

"Are you all packed?" said a most familiar voice, and Luna did not have to turn around to know who it was.

"Yes, Ronald," she said, watching the afternoon sun shine off of the cars' windshields.

"When are you going home?" asked Ronald.

"In a little while," said Luna. She patted the opposite side of the lamp post, inviting him to it. He smiled slightly, and leaned against it, facing away from her, just as he had before.

They sat in silence for awhile, feeling the sun warm their skin. And then, Ronald spoke:

"You were right, you know."

Luna smiled, but didn't respond.

"About Hermione and me, I mean," Ron clarified unnecessarily.

"How did it all happen?" said Luna, then. "There are quite some rumors flying about. I heard someone say you tried to jinx her out of her wedding dress right there in the corridor."

"Of course I didn't!" said Ronald, a bit louder than he seemed to have expected.

"I know that," said Luna. "That's why I'm asking you what _did _happen."

She could feel him shrug, even if she couldn't technically feel it.

"Well, I told her about what I'd been feeling, and everything. How I wasn't sure about things. I..." he paused, sounding slightly guilty, "I didn't actually _try _to break up with her, I was just trying to say we should like... put things off for awhile, not rush into things, you know? But... she didn't take it very well..."

"Did you expect her to?"

"Sort of?" said Ron. "I mean, I hoped she would..."

"Do you regret it?" said Luna.

Again, she felt him shrug.

"I dunno," he said. "I mean, I feel like I should. Part of me is yelling at me for it, saying I'm so stupid and I'm throwing away my future." He paused, and chuckled slightly. "That part of me sounds an awful lot like her, actually."

He was silent for a minute before continuing. "Mostly, though, it feels really... really good. Freeing, you know? Like flying. I mean, I've never known what I wanted to do with my life, and I never knew what life was going to throw at _me... _but now I feel like I'm rather willing to find out. Like I always used to be dreading what might happen, but now I'm excited about it. Does that make sense?"

Luna nodded, and then realized he couldn't see her--but he seemed to have heard her anyway, which made her smile.

"Well, maybe," he said. He let out a strange sort of laugh, then, and said: "Did you hear about Snape?"

Luna's eyebrows shot into the air. "What about him?"

"Well, when Hermione ran away from me after everything, she was crying and storming off back towards where we were sitting in that corridor, you know, outside the hospital room, and when she'd got there, she"--here he laughed again at the mental image--"she tripped on her wedding dress and almost fell on her face, but Snape caught her, and... well..." He dropped his voice to a whisper: "...then _he _showed up at my room today, said _she_ didn't want to see my 'weasely face' right now, and gathered all her suitcases and stuff for her. So I reckon they're on pretty good terms now."

Luna grinned at this, and laughed as well.

"Oh, wait a minute," said Ron, turning around to face her and sounding serious all of a sudden. "Aren't _you two_ going out? That ruddy two-faced git--"

And Luna laughed even harder now, and turned around to face him as well. He looked quite angry, but that expression faltered when he saw her smile.

"It's all right, Ronald," said Luna, taking his hand and squeezing it tightly. "I think it's safe to say that Severus and I have broken things off." Luna smirked to herself.

"He was much too old for me, anyway."

FIN


End file.
